Batman
by Air Guitar Pixie
Summary: Tag to season four episode twenty one (When the Levee Breaks). Sam's in the panic room, alone with his thoughts. And sometimes that can be scary. Dean's outside, and that's almost worse. Panic room fic, becomes AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Story tag to 4/21**

A/N: _Uh, okay. I hope this makes sense (it's kind of supposed to not make sense but anyhoo). Just a little drabble I wrote because I was rewatching season four and thought about what was running through Sam's mind inside the panic room. Keep in mind that during this story Sam's had lots of sleep deprivation and dehydration so he's a wreck. Okay, enough said. Enjoy!_

_**Edit as of my writing & posting chapter six**- I'm not sure what the heckie happened but this ain't a drabble anymore, folks. Uh, it sort of grew wings and flew away with me...so yeah. It has an actual plotline now, which is cool. So you should read it even more now. Okay. Yeah. Carry on. (resists urge to continue that phrase)_

-Jaq

**TRIGGER WARNING- PLEASE READ-** I do mention suicide in this fic, as well as suicidal thoughts. IF THIS HAS THE POTENTIAL TO TRIGGER YOU THEN I URGE YOU NOT TO READ THIS! Thank you.

* * *

_There was a time _before_ the room; Sam's pretty sure of that. _

_Because he remembers sitting in the passenger seat_

_Of an old black car_

_The car that Dean called his baby_

_And Sam was listening to Metallica and he was humming along and Sam didn't even _like_ Metallica because wasn't the point of music to be singing and not screaming_

_But Dean liked Metallica so Sam did, too, sort of, and that was why he was humming. _

_Dean_

_Dean was Sam's brother and Sam's best friend and Sam's family and Sam's rock and sometimes (no, always, always) Sam's hero and Sam didn't know what happened _

_Because_

_Now Dean wasn't there wasn't there and Sam was in the room with the lumpy bed and Dean had shackled him to the lumpy bed and Sam didn't know what happened but Dean wasn't his friend and he almost wasn't his brother but he was still his hero (sometimes. Sometimes Sam didn't want a hero anymore)._

_Sam wondered when he started thinking in third person, and wasn' t that a sign of insanity_

_No_

_I _

_I _

_I_

_I am not Sam because Dean loves Sam Dean wants Sam Dean doesn't want Sam dead or chained to a bed in the room dying slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly, no water or food, no, it turns to blood, slowly_

_Sam thinks maybe it was when Dean died that Sam started to mess up (so badly, Sam messed up so, so badly) but maybe it was before that maybe it was when Sam was a baby and Azazel fed him demon blood and maybe Sam is just messed up from the inside and there's nothing Sam can do because I am not Sam am I?_

_Because usually when Sam was hurt then Dean came and made it better (no, always, because even though Dean is not a miracle healer he tries his best always ALWAYS and that makes Sam know that it is going to be okay)_

_Or he tried but he couldn't even do anything and that was when Sam knew (for sure, not for maybe, everything here is maybe but this is for sure)_

_Sam knew he had messed up so badly even Dean couldn't fix it and Dean could fix anything_

_Dean was Batman_

_Because Sam remembers as a kid being scared of the Joker (because Sam doesn't like clowns and Dean didn't make fun of him instead Dean became Batman) and wanting (no, needing) a Batman to help him because even though Batman isn't real there are things that Sam is scared of that are real and so he needs a Batman and Dean was Batman and he got the Joker every time Sam got scared (Dean got rid of the bad guys)_

_Sam wonders when he stopped telling Dean what he was afraid of (because sometimes Sam is afraid of himself)_

_Wonders if Dean cares if Dean was still his Batman if Dean is even STILL DEAN because Sam is not me. Sam I am not. (and is Dean still Batman because right now Sam needs a Batman)_

_Third person again_

_Maybe Sam is going insane_

_Maybe he is already insane and his whole life is a delusion and there is no Dean and no Batman and no humming along to Metallica (which maybe he likes more than he would admit to Dean) and no no no no no no no no_

_This was real _

_Sam was handcuffed to a lumpy bed_

_No_

I AM CUFFED TO A LUMPY BED

_Sam is not me_

_Sam was happy and he was kind and he liked dogs and he had a Batman and maybe he liked it a little bit when Dean would hum Metallica off-tune _

_I am a monster_

_And monsters don't need Batman monsters get taken down by Batman_

_And Sam realizes_

_(no, I realize)_

_I'm the Joker_

* * *

A/N 2: _Well...I hope that made sense (sort of)! Pretty please, leave a review? Tell me what you thought of anything- the style, the annoying Italics, the third person/first person weirdness, anything...they make my day :). Now, you can either stop reading here, or you can continue into what I've made an AU. Thanks!_

_-Jaq_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:_ First of all, the response to this was incredible! So much that I had to make a sequel chapter. (Thanks to .777 for the pushing to make it happen!). So huge thank you to .777, flygirl33, Sammysmissinghoe (props goes to you for best username ever, by the way...), and Jenna (guest). Ok. On to the story! I know I said I would publish this yesterday but life happened so here I am, one day off schedule. Enjoy!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

Dean can hear Sam screaming inside the panic room, anguished screaming that's punctuated by cries of 'Dad,' 'Mom,' 'Jess,' and the worst, 'Dean.'

He closes his eyes, because he's tired, but Dean can't sleep. He can't just sleep when Sammy is locked up in there- by his own hand- suffering physical and mental torture.

Dean hears Sam grow quiet, and then start- humming, start humming /Metallica,/ which didn't make sense because Sam never liked the heavy rock Dean listened to. But as he hears For Whom The Bell Tolls waved out from the grate, Dean thinks he is going to lose it then and there. Thinks he's gonna either rip Sam /out/ of that hellhole or rip himself a new one.

But he doesn't, he just slides down slowly on the floor and listens to Sam humming brokenly.

He's sorely tempted to go to the door, do anything, just ask "Sammy, you all right?" but he can't. He can only listen.

Sam stops his quiet concert suddenly, a sob choking though the iron door.

"I'm not Sam I'm not Sam I'm not Sam."

Dean's confused, because of course it's Sam.

The voice continues in a raspy monotone. "Dean loves Sam and needs Sam and wants Sam to be healthy and Dean is Sam's hero and I am not Sam because Dean doesn't need me and I don't want a hero anymore anyways 'cause now not even Batman can fix me and I don't know what happened, Sam!"

Dean's got tears stealing down his cheeks now, unchecked but silent. Because no matter what, he still loved his little brother. He always would. How could he not? Sam's senseless ramblings were growing louder, frequented by sobbing and the occasional reference to Batman, which made Dean frown.

He remembered, of course. Sammy was five, Dean was nine, and the only decent thing on TV was the Batman movie. Dad was away. Anyways, Dean always let Sam stay up and watch movies with him.

It started out fine, but every time the Joker had come onscreen, Sam had tensed up and burrowed next to Dean, murmuring something about "don't like clowns."

So Dean had looked his little brother in the eye and told him in a serious voice that he was Batman. Sam believed him. Sam believed everything Dean told him back then.

Six months later, Dean found an old black T-shirt with the Bat-mobile on it, and whenever Sammy go scared he would put it on and then Batman would go get Joker and the bad guys. Batman always won.

"'M so messed up that nobody can fix me, not even Dean. 'M not even Sam anymore," came Sam's pained voice.

Dean leans against the door, wishing to be closer, to be able to hug his brother tightly and tell him that everything will be okay- but he couldn't now, and that was the worst part of all.

Softly, so that Dean has to strain to hear, Sam speaks again.

"Dean handcuffed me to the lumpy bed. Batman gets rid of the monsters. Because that's what I am, Not-Sam. Not-Sam is a monster. I'm the Joker."

And Dean's heart shatters. He can feel it. Sam was terrified of the Joker, absolutely scared stiff. And now here he was, dully admitting to becoming the thing he feared most.

The lucidity seems to wear off then, and Sam's back to yelling at Alistair to _please_ stop, but Dean can't get that given-up tone out of his head.

He didn't know if it all started with him being in Hell, or if it was always Sam's 'destiny' or some crap, but Dean couldn't just take this. Sam thought- _believed-_ Dean didn't want him, and that was worse than a hundred hells.

* * *

A/N 2: _So! Did I live up to my expectations? Dean's side was more same, but then again so was Dean at the time. I'd really appreciate it if you'd take the time to leave a review! They make my day. Thanks for reading!_

_-Jaq_


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: _I...I don't even know what to say! The response on this story was phenomenal, more response than I've ever had before! I hope I'm not stretching my luck too far by posting a third chapter...anyway, thank you so much to 221BNB, sammysmissingshoe, ellie . reynolds . 777, flygirl33, Sara B (guest), lovejensenacklesforever, Jenna (guest), and mb64!. I never actually expected anyone to like this story- it was just a thought I had- but you guys proved me wrong and are by default awesome for reviewing. Okay, I've rambled on enough. To to story! We're back at Sam's POV. _

-Jaq

* * *

Sam_smiles, because Alistair is always there and that's constant, at least, he hopes. Not like Mom or Dad or Jess or even Dean- they always left him alone, alone in the dark, the dark that ate away at Sam and laughed at him and reminded him that oh Sam you are _so alone_._

_Alistair cuts the smile out of Sam's face with a knife, and Sam screams for help (but he doesn't know why. Why would he waste precious air screaming for help? Dean locked him here. If Dean was coming to save him he'd have done it a long time ago). Sam screams, and feels tears well up in his eyes, but the demon just tsks and makes a scathing remark that Sam can't hear because all he can hear is blood pounding pounding pounding through his head and the blood sounds like pain and anger and regret and it's pounding pounding pounding_

_But then Alistair is gone, too, and Sam actually starts crying because now he's alone again he's vulnerable and alone in the dark and Sam know's that he should be afraid of the dark, knows there are monsters out there, and he closes his eyes but the dark is there, too, even in his mind, he can't escape_

_Can't escape, can't escape..._

_Sam goes very quiet, listening, because for half a second he thought he heard someone crying _

_Sam is alone, of course. Nobody us crying. Not for Sam. _

_Sam thinks maybe the crying person is afraid of him. _

_Sam's afraid of him. Of me. (Dean isn't afraid, though, Dean has perfect aim.)_

_The old Sam, the real Sam, the Sam that Dean loves and Dad tolerated and the Sam that didn't mess up the whole friggin planet (and maybe I should just end it all to save that Sam but it's too late and someone is crying, for sure)._

_That Sam wonders (hopes) if if's Dean, but I know it won't be Dean (Dean doesn't care)._

_Dean's the hero that Sam needed and I don't want. (But I still need a hero, I think.) The hero has to come and get the bad guy, Sam knows, and for maybe the first time I agree and at least we're getting somewhere with the third person versus first person, right?_

_Sam took a psychology class and diagnosed himself with four different life-threatening conditions in his sophomore year of high school, but Dean told his he would be okay and he was. (That was back when Dean was always right)_

_DeanDeanDeanDeanDean (why couldn't he just forget Dean finally forget his hero)_

_No_

_No_

_Not his hero Dean is his enemy his brother his Batman his nemesis anything but his hero (anything but the truth)_

_Sam thought he made a bad villain because you had to sympathize with the villain, right? And no one would sympathize with a bloodsucking evil half-demon kid who'd done nothing right, nothing at all. (It's hard when the villain's only ever looked up to the hero and still managed to screw it all up)_

_Sam can definitely hear someone trying not to make noise while they cry (which is what Dean always does, but it isn't Dean out there, just a hallucination, I know), and then he almost hears the iron door-grate open but that would break the dark and Sam doesn't think that's allowed. (Breaking the dark means letting in the light and Sam can't do that yet)_

_And then Dean's standing over him in his Batman shirt, the one Sam was pretty sure he stole looking back on it over the years, the one he always wore for Sam when Sam got scared. (And Sam's scared now, so scared)_

_And then Dean was ten and Sam was six and Sam was hugging Dean and telling him he was scared and Sam looked around, hoping that maybe it wasn't what he thought it was but_

_I knew, I knew Sam and Little Sam were both scared of the same thing and it was ME._

_Dean tells Little Sam it's okay, he'll take care of the monster, and then he's thirty year-old Dean again and he's got his favorite gun, the .45 Colt with ivory and silver engravings but Sam has seen that gun so many times but never like this_

_Never looking down the barrel with Dean's finger on the trigger _

_And Sam begs begs begs because surely Dean wouldn't shoot him?_

_But Dean was Batman. Dean killed monsters; that was his job and his hobby and his life and Sam and I am-are-am (we am, because Sam and I am the same person), a monster_

_A vile, disgusting monster that Dean has to hunt_

_So Sam pleads only once before he knows his time is up and Dean pulls the trigger. (And Dean has perfect aim)_

* * *

A/N 2: _Well? Please review. I am *considering* a fourth chapter, but I need to know your thoughts first...should I? And how did you like this one? Thanks for reading and have a super day. :)_

_-Jaq_


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: _Well, you guys rallied and called for a fourth chapter! ...wow! I reall_y can't tell you enough how _appreciative I am for your excellent feedback and crying and sending me threats if I don't help poor Sammy (I'm writing this from my panic room in the basement, so good luck getting to me)_

_Some people may be slightly upset at my putting Sam & Dean through this, but I have no regrets. That said, a thank-you is in order to Hades Lord of the Dead (your username is scary- please no maiming me, ok? Or at least spare my left hand so I can write. Thanks.), ellie . Reynolds . 777 (you, my dear, are FANTASTIC), Guest, Sammysmissinghoe (also please save my left hand), Naivaraeladrin (well, here's Dean's reaction. Hope you like it!), Jenna (yes, I am a cruel, capricious authoress and I live off my readers' tears), and Sara B (enjoy!) SO MUCH for reviewing! And now, to what you've all been (presumably) waiting for..._

_-Jaq_

* * *

"Alistair...please, no...stop! Stop..."

Dean rubs circles into his temples, remembering his own time under Alistair's blade. He remebers the pain, the horror...

To imagine his baby brother under that knife, imaginary or not, almost breaks him. If he isnn't already broken, that is.

"_DEAN_! Dean, help me, help Sam, please, I'm sorry, Sam's sorry, PLEASE Dean..."

Dean's jaw clenches, and the tears start up again. He's like a friggin' waterworks when Sam's hurt, and he almost tells himself to just suck it up, pull it together. But he doesn't do that. Sam thinks he's being tortured, and even after everything he still calls for Dean, and Dean can't just tell himself to ignore that.

Dean gasps, trying not to make too much noise as he sobs.

"Dean?" comes the broken voice? "Stupid...Sam. Dean doesn't care, doesn't want, won't help, it's just me, Sam an' me..."

Sam and me? Tears course down his face. Has Sam finally lost it? All the psychic crap, the demon blood and everything else finally just too much? Dean doesn't blame him.

After a few more minutes, Dean realizes Sam isn't crying out in pain anymore. Now, he's just muttering about...being lonely?

Dean remembers seeing his brother in those moments after locking him down, before Sam woke. He looked so...broken, all alone, lying there pale and limp, a trickle of blood running down his cheek where the belt Dean and Bobby had used to restrain him had cut him.

Once Dean left that time, he knew he couldn't abandon his post again. Not unless he collapsed from exhaustion or Sam finally purged the blood. Screw Bobby and his "you need some food and sleep, son," talk. What me _needed_ was his friggin' brother back.

"Dean," came a groan. "Can you hear me? You're the hero, Dean..."

"No, I'm not..." Dean chokes out, curling into the corner by the door. "I'm no hero, believe me." _Sammy, I'm no hero. I'm weak. Selling my soul just so that I wouldn't have to be alone? That was weak. And it started the Seals breaking. I'm no hero._

"You gotta...take care of the villian, Dean..."

Dean nods. Yeah, he had to gank Lilith, stop the seals from breaking. Wasn't that already obvious, with Sam the way he was?

"Hate you, Dean? The villian's s'posed to hate the hero..."

Hate...with a blow that almost sends Dean's body reeling along with his mind, he understands. Sam thought _himself_ to be the villian. Couldn't he see? Dean had- had tied him down and locked him up for _Sam's benefit_, eventhough Sam didn't seem to understand that.

"Sam's even a bad villian...'m just a filthy, evil, bloodsucking /vampire/, and Dean knows that. Knows he's got to do his job."

Dean's shoulders are heaving at his effort to keep his sobs silent, but a few sounds escape. It shouldn't have to be like this. There should be another way.

"Used to look up at Dean, used to think Dean knew everything, Dean was a genius, Dean had all the answers.." There comes a low, rasping laugh that sounds so foreign that Dean's almost convinced Sam has finally fallen off the deep end. He stands up, and walks the half-step necessary to be directly in front of the door. His hand tense, he slowly pulls open the iron grate. Sam's muscles are all tense, he's sweaty, and generally looks like crap. His eyes are focused on something only he can see, something about three feet away from him.

Suddenly, Dean's angry, downright _pissed_. At Sam, for chugging the friggin' demon blood in the first place, yeah, but mostly at himself. He should have seen what was happening, and stopped it before it came to this. There should have been away. He curses himself, gazing at his little brother sitting there so friggin _helpless_ looking. The world is so _unfair_. Why him and Sam? All they ever wanted to do was- was help people. So why'd they end up being the ones to screw it all up?

"It always was your favorite gun," Sam muttered to the empty space.

/Huh?/ Automatically, Dean checks his waistband. The .45 Colt was still there, of course. Dean wonders what Sam's hallucinating. Some version of himself, probably, holding the gun. His stomach clenches because the hallucination is probably pointing the gun at his brother.

"De...an," Sam murmurs, so soft that outside Dean can barely hear him. Tears are pouring down his face now, and he's making pitiful little noises. Sam braces himself, staring at empty space. It's hard to see because of the dim lighting, but Dean's pretty sure he sees Sam's face, and it's covered in tear tracks. The trickle of blood at his mouth is dried, and smeared a little from lying on the pillow.

"I'm...sorry, Dean..." Sam closes his eyes, a fresh tear rolling down his lean, haggard face.

Then Dean frowns, because Sam flinches and falls back, unconsious.

"..Sam?" he says, speaking directly to his brother for the first time in several days. No response.

"Sam!"

Dean's hand is on the door, ready to charge in there and make sure that Sam is okay, but he stops.

He can't go in there; it'll break him even more than he's already broken. So he closes the grate, telling himself Sam will be okay. This was the right thing to do. Dean turns away from the door, refusing to listen to Sam's unconsious moans of pain. He rubs his eyes and checks his watch. 2:21 am. Bobby comes at 2:30 to relieve him of his post, but Dean's still got a few hours in him. And he won't sleep until it's all over.

* * *

A/N 2: **IMPORTANT, IF YOU'RE READING THIS STORY THEN READ THIS ONE AUTHOR'S NOTE, IT IS IMPORTANT.** _Firstly, if you're sending monsters out to maim me, remember to spare my left hand. _**SECONDLY AND MOST IMPORTANT:**_**Now is the turning point. If you like, I can wrap this ficlet up in one last chapter and have it stick to canon. OR, I can make this a multi-chapter AU fic somehow. (Don't worry. I will have plenty of banged-up Sammy either way next chapter.) This is huge deal, so you really have to tell me what you want...AU or canon?**__ If AU, specifying something you want to see is a sure fire way to see it happen (if I go AU). So...comments? Questions? Concerns? You know what to do. Thanks again for reading! _

_-Jaq_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: WOW! The response to that chapter was awesome! It seems as though most of you want an AU, so that's what will happen. First, though, a huge thanks is in order to Sharlissa, ellie . Reynolds . 777, Naivaraeladrin, Sammysmissinghoe, Falchion (guest), Hades Lord of the Dead (yay for disco), fuzzy bunnies, and Jenna (guest). You guys are the driving force behind this story and generally awesome! We're back to Sammy's POV for this chappie :)_

_-Jaq_

* * *

_Dean shot him. But Sam's not dead. Sam isn't dead, because this is too much pain for heven but not enough, he thinks, for Hell. And he's still cuffed to the bed, the handcuffs leaving dark circles on his wrists and ankles where he's strained against them. (Because Sam just wants to leave, wants to get out out out out OUT)_

_So it was a hallucination. Sam's just another pitiful monster, and he knows how Dean likes to torture the monsters sometimes. Because Dean's gotta get information, has to...save things. _

_Sam wonders how long he's been cuffed to the bed. It must be days. There's a weak shaft of light poking through the fan, but the light _isn't allowed_. _

_There's Dean, again, with Little Sam. Little Sam is standing there, bruised and beaten, and Sam's heart races because he knows_

_He _knows

_He's done that to Little Sam, hurt him, ruined him, _all because of Sam_._

_Little Sam had a chance had a future had a brother and Sam remembers when he was Little Sam and he had those things but he screwed it all up and now he only has a monster and the dark and Sam wonders what the whole idea is, why it has to be him. _

_He isn't surprised when Little Sam starts crying and buries his head in Dean's chest. (Sam aches for the time when he could still do that) Dean looks to be about twelve. _

_"You did this to my brother," Dean spits. (Little Dean is intimidating, and Sam laughs because for the first time he's older than Dean. That never happened even though he was sure he would one day be older as a kid)_

_Sam nods nods nods because he _knows_ it was his fault but please just please let me live, he begs_

_He see's Dean pull out the gun and he braces himself again and tears start flowing again, because Sam just _can't_ bear this any longer. He pleads with Dean asks him to PLEASE stop, but no, no, no, the gun just keeps getting higher and now it's eye level and Dean has_ that look_, the one where he has to kill a monster, and then_

_Dean's gone, or at least Little Dean. In his place stands thirty-year-old Dean, and Sam closes his eyes and turns away his head and trys to go to sleep or something because now Dean will shoot him again and then Dean reaches his hand down and Sam flinches because is Dean going to _hit_ him first?_

_But Dean just brushes the hair out of Sam's eyes and Sam just starts _sobbing_, because even if it's just a hallucination or if it's real or anything, Sam remembers when Dean would do that when Sam was falling asleep when they were little and Sam just wishes that he could have that with Dean again, when they were _brothers_ and they looked out for each other and didn't lock each other up. (Heroes locked monsters up)_

_"C'mon, Sammy," Dean says gruffly, but Sam just turns away. He can't fly high again just to fall, can't let this- this image of Dean get in just to melt away to Alistair or someone. But he wants it to be Dean. _

_"C'mon!" Dean says, harsher now. "Bobby's asleep, and I- I just can't take this anymore. Please, Sam." (And the broken note in his voice makes Sam cry harder, because he really does love Dean as a brother, and wants to stay alive and stay Dean's brother and wants most of all Dean to be his hero again)_

_Sam wants to believe it's Dean (so, so badly, wishes it's Dean. It sounds like Dean, and it hasn't hurt him yet)_

_But_

_But _

_No, he can't, he has to- to pay, or something. (Has to take what's coming, what he deserves) Has to make sure the monster inside him, the monster that _is_ him, is me, dies, and Dean has to kill it. Sam knows that. Is Dean taking him outside to die? To die on his feet, like a man? No, monsters don't even get that. Sam doesn't deserve this at all, he deserves to die alone_

_(alone in the dark with nobody to help him and he deserves to die tied up and alone, so very much alone)_

_He tries to tell Dean this but Dean just won't take that and I smile because Dean's such a pitiful excuse, because he can't even bring himself to kill the monster. Dean's stupid. (No, Dean's smart, Dean knows everything. Even knows it's right to kill Sam)_

_But Dean just shushes Sam and unlocks the handcuffs. Dean rubs Sam's wrists where the handcuffs left welts and he helps Sam out the door and _then_ Sam collapses, his muscles sore and weak. He leans against the wall and stares up at Dean, begins to have just a glimmer of hope because maybe_

_just maybe_

_if Sam is very, very lucky,_

_Dean forgives him, maybe that's why Dean isn't tying him up it making sure he can't run away (not that he can, anyway, Sam's much too tired), and isn't glaring at Sam_

_Dean glances around, and helps Sam up, so Sam's upright but still leaning against the wall._

_And then Dean pulls out his gun. _

* * *

A/N 2:_ well...remember how last chapter you all promised not to maim me? I hope that still stands. Cliffhangers are such fun, right? I'd love to hear your response! Please review and tell me what you thought of that chapter. I promise I'll update tomorrow or the next day, so you won't have to wait too long!_

_-Jaq_


	6. Chapter 6

A/N:_ Well, that cliffhanger was something else, wasn't it? I'm glad you all like the chapter and the decision to make this officially an AU now, however. Thanks to Sammysmissinghoe, Falchion (guest) (thank you so much! That is intentional and I'm glad you picked up on it (: ), ellie . Reynolds . 777, DaughterofNeptune313, Naivaraeladrin, Sharlissa, Sara B (guest) (yes, I love cliffhangers...), and Jenna (guest) (and, uh, yes, good warding in my panic room. *sweats nervously and reapplies chalk*) for reviewing! You guys are so awesome you don't even know. I just LOVE your feedback! Okay, enough of me. Onto the chapter! _

_-Jaq_

* * *

Dean hears Sam's shock at not being dead, hears his ramblings about hallucinations and not being real, and he thinks that if Bobby doesn't come and relieve him this damn second he is going to friggin' bust Sammy out.

Speaking of which, where _is_ the old drunk? It's 2:46, and Bobby isn't one to be late. Dean frowns again at the door, wiping his face with his jacket. He has control of his emotions, for now, so he decides to go upstairs and check on him. Not that Bobby _needs_ checking on...it's just...Dean doesn't really want to do this alone anymore.

He would call Castiel, but angel-butt isn't great with humans and their emotions. Dean smiles semi-fondly at the memory of Cas informing them gravely that the Winchesters had originally had a combined probability of ninety-three point eight four percent of being seriously injured on a particular werewolf hunt, after Sam had been seriously injured and Dean was looking for support.

"How is that supposed to make me feel better?" Dean had shouted.

Cas looked confused. "It shows you that this outcome was extremely likely, and that although you could have prevented it you would only have a small chance of doing so."

"You know what, Cas? Nevermind."

Ever since then, Dean's avoided talking to Cas when emotionally disraught.

Dean checks the door one more time before trudging up the stairs. "Bobby?"

Snore. Dean frowns, finding Bobby asleep on the couch. Guess that's a no. Although...

If Bobby's out cold- and he is for sure, neither him or Dean have slept for the past couple days- then he can't hear if Dean lets Sam out. Not...permanently, or anything. Just for a while. It can't hurt, right?

Dean tiptoes back down the stairs.

"Dean! Please..." Sam sobs.

Dean grits his teeth and throws open the door. Sam doesn't react, just stares at that spot in the air that contains nothing.

Carefully, Dean steps into what he thinks is the spot. His suspicions are proved correct as Sam looks up at him, the younger Winchester's tear-fraught face filled with submission and pain.

Then, Sam closes his eyes and curls away from Dean with a rasping sob. His hair- Dean never could understand why Sam kept it so long- falls over his face, and with a start Dean realises that his brother can't even reach up and brush it away. Tenatively, he reaches his own hand down.

Sam flinches when Dean touches him, but relaxes slightly as his brother gently brushes away the dark, sweat-matted hair. With a shudder, Sam starts sobbing, absolutely _loses_ it, and Dean stands back, panicked. What has he done?

"When Sam 'n' D'n were little," Sam slurs under his breath. "Used t' brush m'hair away. I wish...Sam wishes..."

Dean's jaw clenches, but he cards his fingers through Sam's hair like he used to when they were young.

"...Can't do that, Dean...you gotta...lock th' monster up, Dean...please..."

Dean swallows hard. "C'mon, Sammy," he says gruffly. Sam doesn't come, though, he turns away.

_Now is not the time for emotional revelations, Winchester_, Dean tells himself.

"C'mon! Bobby's asleep, and I- I just can't take this anymore. Please, Sam," he begs, hating the crack im his voice on the last word.

"No...gotta die..."

"No, you don't" Dean murmurs.

"Gotta die, gotta pay," Sam continues tonelessly. "Gotta kill the monster...gotta kill monsters like monsters, not men...Dean..."

"Yeah?" Dean says, his voice catching so that the word is barely vocalized.

"Dean...don't kill me on my feet...gotta end it in the dark, alone...gotta kill Sam tied up...alone...with nobody to care..."

"Dammit, Sammy, no! Come on, I'm getting you out of here," Dean says firmly. He pushes his emotions to the side, focusing only on unlocking Sam's cuffs with as little noise as possible. Soon, his brother is lying limply on the bed, cuffs dangling down the sides.

Dean massages Sam's wrists where the handcuffs left welts, rubbing the feeling back into them.

"A'ight, Sammy, one step at a time," he mutters, heaving Sam's body upright and into a standing position. Sam totters out the door, but collapses just outside. He leans against the wall, looking up at Dean with an expression that Dean hasn't seen in a long time- hope.

Dean glances around. Bobby's snores waft gently down the stairs, so Dean's sure he and Sam are alone.

Slowy, he pulls out his gun.

* * *

A/N 2_: ...*grins haphazardly* you know how I always end Dean's chapter in the same place as Sammy's...? *hides in my panic room* don't kill me don't kill me don't kill me...in fact, reviewing will make the next chapter come up faster (and I promise you will know after that why Dean's pulling a gun)! So...review? I'll be hiding in my panic room with my phone (my computer's broken and I've been writing on my phone which kind of sucks) if you need me. Okay, Jaq out. *runs away*_

_-Jaq_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Well, since I'm such a nice little authoress (and eight reviews, wOW), I am updating an entire day ahead of schedule. *smiles* Also. To the people who are currently trying to find ways to enter my panic room and torture me into giving Sam and Dean happiness, it sucks to be you because I fence and even if you could get in you can use guns because the bullets will ricochet off the solid iron walls. Which means hand-to-hand. Which I am master at. So hahahhahaHA. Okay. Thanks to DaughterofNeptune313, afreckledangel, Naivaraeladrin, Sharllissa (I AM SO SORRY FOR MISSPELLING YOUR NAME. PEOPLE MISSPELL MY SHORTENED NAME JAQ AS JACQUES ALL THE TIME AND IT IS BOTHERSOME AND I APOLOGIZE PROFUSELY.), ellie . Reynolds . 777, Falchion, Sara B (nope. Nothing to worry about...ha...), and Jenna. You people are amazing! _

_-Jaq_

_**TRIGGER WARNING: okay, this chapter has thoughts/actions relating to suicide. I am 100% against suicide, and do not take the topic lightly at all. Please, if this topic has the potential to trigger you, DON'T READ THIS! I am sorry, and will put a notice up in the 1st chapter. Thanks**__._

* * *

_Sam shudders and presses himself harder into the wall because Dean's got a gun Dean's got a gun _Dean has got a gun_ and he's going to shoot Sam now _

_It's over. It's over it's over it's over and Sam is relieved but he's also scared because he knows he's going to Hell now and that's so, so scary. (He knows he deserves it a million times over but he still doesn't want to think about it)_

_Sam doesn't plead this time, just looks up at Dean. If this is the end he can't imagine a better last memory. (No, that was Before, before it all, when Metallica tapes blared in the car and Dean was Batman) Now it is Couldn't. Couldn't imagine a better last memory. Now, Dean's just another hero come to take the cake (but Dean likes pie more than cake, so Sam smiles a little bit) and kill the monster. (Kill the beast, like in that Eagles song that Dean says shouldn't be called rock)_

_Dean doesn't fire. Doesn't even cock the gun, just stands there holding it. _

_Sam mumbles something about just doing it, just do it, just do it and end it and don't keep drawing it out if Sam ever meant anything to Dean then stop drawing it out._

_Dean says something back but Sam's ears are ringing and he can't hear. _

_"JUST PUNISH ME!" Sam screams, tears leaking out. He looks desperately at Dean. _

_Silence. Then, slowly, Dean reaches out with the hand not holding the gun and flicks Sam's face, but in a weirdly comforting way. "There you go, Sammy," he says in a voice that tells Sam that Dean's been crying too._

_Dean isn't supposed to cry. Dean just can't kill the beast. (Hotel California. That's it.) Dean just has to cock the gun and squeeze the trigger now. One pull with his thumb and a centimetre with his index finger and the beast is finally gone from his life. _

_Waiting _

_Waiting_

_Waiting_

_Waitingwaitingwaiting and it never comes, the instant of pain and then eternity of it, never comes even though the gun is right there and is Dean trying to drag this out?_

_Sam's confused, and he looks up, a hopeless look because he just doesn't know anymore. He's not sure he ever knows. What does he even wat to know? He doesn't know. Softly, he starts humming again, because Sam remembers one time on the road when he fell asleep and Dean flicked him until he woke up. Flick._

_Queen. Bohemian Rhapsody, actually. _

_Humming, humming. _

_Dean slowly crouches down. "I- I couldn't kill you, Sammy," he says slowly. "I jus' wanted to make sure you knew that." He places the gun on the ground in between them._

_Sam understands and it's worse and he doesn't want to but he has to because there isn't an alternative, now, he knows. _

_tears. _

_they're wet, and they tickle a little as they run down down down his face and drip onto his shirt._

_I don't want to die. I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all._

_The lyrics work so the song must be the truth and all this is illusion. Sam understands the lyrics. Good lyrics for right now. _

_Sam knows. I know. _

_The gun is just sitting on the ground where Dean set it down. Just lying there like a silver-and-ivory snake, but snakes don't look like that, Sam thought with a laugh._

_His last laugh, at a gun. _

_Sam just wishes it could have been different so he grabs Dean's wrist and stares at his brother and then the hallucinations threaten to take over and Sam's fingers grow long claws and he's hurting Dean, hurting everyone. Always hurting them. (He's always been hurting them, or preparing them to be hurt)_

_Sam grabs the gun in a swift, fluid motion and he isn't sure how even because he needs sleep and food and water but even with his hands shaking he knows what to do. He's done it a million times before (maybe not quite a million.)_

_He can't hold it steady enough to hit his head, he knows that. In a split second, Dean's snarling, snapping at him in a figure that's more hallucination than actual Dean. Sam points the gun at Dean first and me, the monster, I know who my nemesis is at last and the gun is sleek and shiny and Dean is just sitting there stunned and so I pull the trigger and watch the blood seep out and the hallucinations that are real show Dean lying on the ground holding his stomach and swearing loudly but it's OK because it isn't real. _

_Sam's hand shook during the shot and it isn't fatal (just a stomach wound but all he had to do was incapacitate Dean not kill him) but the next one will be. It has to be, has to end. (Maybe this was the way all along.)_

_Slowly Sam pulls the gun back and presses it against his chest. (Not his head, Sam wants to bleed out and feel the tainted blood flow out and finally leave him so he has to hit an artery running out of his heart) _

_This is what Dean wants. This is what the world needs. This is the right thing. Do it. Pull the trigger you vile disgusting monster just DO IT._

_The gunshot is the last sound Sam registers before the black wave hits._

* * *

A/N 2: _I'll be in my panic room if you need me. (Also, if you like the song Hotel California, fine. I don't.). ALSO. Not gonna spoil anything but I will say that Sam does not die right now. This is not a deathfic. Although characters may die, I have an actual plotline now. Yay. _

_Review, please? They make my day and are generally awesome. Thanks! And thanks for reading as well. _

_-Jaq_


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: _Wow, the best response to a chapter so far! I guess you guys just like it when I almost kill off the main characters? Does this mean I should do it again? (okay, just kidding. Most of you are camped outside my panic room with torches and pitchforks and hellhounds and I-don't-even-wanna-know what else. ha...) _

_Guys! We broke 50 reviews in the first seven chapters! Wow! I have the best readers ever, okay. Thanks to Naivaraeladrin, EmCWolf, ellie . reynolds . 777, sammysmissingshoe, afreckledangel, Sara B (aw thanks! I like that scene too (: ), Jenna, Falchion, and Sharllissa for reviewing. You guys are the best and the whole reason this story keeps going, so...yeah. You rock. Onto the chapter! Enjoy! _

-_Jaq_

* * *

Dean watches Sam as his brother sizes up, squirming against the wall with a petrified look on his face. That isn't the worst of it, though. The worst part is that Sam looks_ relieved_. Frightened, yes. But he also looks as if he's been waiting for this, and is glad it's finally over.

Sam suddenly stops moving around, as though he's given up. He straightens, sitting so he's square to Dean, and looks up with dead, tired eyes. Dean's frozen. He had pulled out the gun in order to set it down, show Sam that he _wouldn't_ shoot him, but now...he can't move, just stand there watching his brother.

"Just do it. Just end it! If Sam ever meant anything, anything a all, then just DO it! Stop drawing it out!" Sam snaps, an eerily lucid few seconds. Enough of a response for Dean to hope that maybe Sam's finished with the hallucinations and confusion, but not enough for him to believe it.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, okay?" he says, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"JUST PUNISH ME!" Sam screams, his eyes bugging out and his weak body straining against itself.

Dean's struck speechless. He opens his mouth and then closes it, unsure of what to say or do. Slowly, he reaches out with his left hand, until it's about two inches in front of Sam's face. Then, not too hard, he flicks Sam in between his brother's eyes. "There you go, Sammy," he says, his voice thick from crying. "There's your punishment." The attempt at humor may have been inappropriate for the situation, but it was all Dean could think of.

Sam just looks down, at Deans's feet. Softly, he starts humming. Dean leans his head in closer- Bohemian Rhapsody. Why Sam would hum that was beyond him, but he takes it in stride. Slowly, looking at Sam all the time, he crouches down. "I- I couldn't kill you, Sammy, and I- I jus' wanna make sure you know that." He places the gun down, the weapon making a _clink_ on the floor.

He sees Sam's eyes dart from the gun back up to Dean, and sees them fill with tears. Dean's a little confused- tears of joy maybe? He isn't sure.

"D'n..."

"Yeah, Sam?" Dean leans in closer.

"I...don' wanna die. I sometimes wish I'd never been born...at all..." Sam says thickly, half-singing the lyrics. His tears have spilled over, and they form little shining trails down his face.

"No, Sammy. It's just a song. You matter, okay? Really."

Sam reaches out and grabs Dean's wrist. The ghost of a laugh flits across his face, and Dean's confused- but he smiles hesitatnly. Laughing is a good sign, right?

And then it all turns sour. With the hand not holding Dean, Sam snatches up the gun. Mentally, Dean curses himself for letting a loaded weapon be within his brother's reach, and tries to grab it out of his brother's hand. He's too slow, caught too unaware. He shouldn't _have_ to worry, though, _have_ to be aware, that's the thing.

The next second, the gun goes off, and Dean feels a wave of agony pierce through his stomach, on the left side. He groans and keels over, incapacitated but still able to watch with horror as Sam stares at the gun, and then slowly turns it so the barrel is pointing towards his own chest.

Dean swears loudly. Not this. His one consolation is that Sam isn't pointing it at his temple, for some reason. No, he's got it pressed against his chest. Which might keep Sam living long enough for help to get there. Dean flinches as the second gunshot goes off, and Sam makes a pained expression before slumping over. There's no instant replay, no time-slows-down, just...one slump. And that's the worst part of it all.

_Damn_, it hurts. Everything. Dean tenses his jaw so much that his teeth hurt, too, but he manages to get over to Sam and grab his brother's wrist. No pulse. _Please, please, please_... Dean crashes for a second before remembering that bruising can sometimes hide a pulse, and reaches his hand up to his brother's carotid. Seconds fly by, and with each one so does Dean's hope.

Then.

Weak, but it's there. _Thump-thump. _A pulse.

_Alright, Cas, I'll do anything, just get down here and heal my brother,_ Dean prays, pleading. After cracking his eyes open and finding no trench-coat-clad angel, he does the next best thing.

"BOBBY!"

* * *

A/N 2: _Well, you do realize I could have left it at just Sam shooting Dean and then himself, right? At least I gave you a little bit of reassurance. Review, please? Thanks for reading!_

_-Jaq_


	9. Chapter 9, or Plot Twist

A/N:_ Since darling Sammy is out for the count, I thought we'd do another Dean chapter. Nobody minds, right? Thanks so much to Sara B, EmCWolf, Falchion, Naivaraeladrin, afreckledangel, Sammysmissinghoe, Dani, and Jenna for reviewing! You guys are fantastic! I know I say it very time but I really can't believe how many people actively read and enjoy this. Woo! Alright. To the chapter! (And yeah, I updated early again! But the chapter is short. Still...)_

_-Jaq_

* * *

Dean winces, putting as much pressure as he can on the wound. "BOBBY!" he yells again, but he hears footsteps, and breathes a sigh of relief.

Bobby's down there in a heartbeat. His eyes widen as he sees Sam and Dean, and then the gun lyimg by Sam's hand.

"Take care of Sam," Dean grits out. "He's not dead. I'll be fine." Thoughts race through his brain. SamSamSamSamSam. Is Sam okay? If...when he heals, will he be over his addiction? Did the purging work?

A cry of pain escapes, and Dean fees his eyes start to water. A gutshot _hurts_.

Bobby frowns, but he quickly moves over to Sam. The frown deepens as he unbuttons Sam's shirt to examine the wound.

"It's pretty close to the heart," Bobby said. "I think it ricocheted off one of his ribs, splintering it, and buried itself in his chest." A sigh. "It...it doesn't look good, Dean."

"Yeah, I can see that," Dean grunts. "Can you take the bullet out?"

Bobby pokes and prods a bit more. Suddenly, his face grows pale. "Dean, I think he punctured a lung."

Dean swears profusely. "So can you take the damn bullet out or not?"

"We need to get him to the hospital. You too, probably."

Nodding tightly, Dean attempts to stand. Failing miserably, he looks down at his wound. His stomach is covered in shining red blood, and Dean thinks he's going to pass out from the pain. Another gasping cry escapes, and Dean sees more blood leak out. So much blood.

Meanwhile, Bobby's ties Sam's shirt around his injury and pulls out a phone, dialing nine one-one. He's facing away from them, but Dean can see how tense the veteran hunter is. "Yes, hello, I'm at Singer Salvage- yeah, that's right. I've got two young men here with serious gunshot wounds. Yeah, we've got pressure on them. Alright. Thanks." He hangs up. "Ambulance'll be here in five. Keep pressure on that, alright Dean? I'm gonna go get some towels. I'll be back in a minute."

Before he goes,.Bobby shuts the door to the panic room. Dean half-smiles inwardly at what the cops would think of the panic room. Suddenly, he sobers. Sam. Dean can faintly see his brother's chest moving up and down in a haphazard, irregular manner. He can also see that one side is caving in a lot more than it was inflating, and Dean forgets his own wound briefly because that did _not_ look normal, or good.

Aside from that, Dean worries, his forehead creasing, what are the docs gonna think of the bruises on Sam's wrists and ankles that are clearly the result of being held against his will? Sam's dehydrated, dirty, exhausted, mortally injured, and has friggin' handcuff marks on his wrists and ankles. From an outsider's perspective, it looks like Sam's been abused, kidnapped, or both. Dean grimaces.

Suddenly, Dean vomits, blood and bile (but blood- _so much_ blood) spewing out of his mouth. He groans, and retches again. Blood drips out of his mouth, and he can taste its coppery tang along with the sour, disgusting taste of bile.

Dean feels the pain and blood loss start to pull at him, and spots dance before his eyes. Everything's out of focus, and he can't seem to blink out of it.

Dean squeezes his stomach, almost blacking out from the pain. He gives an anguished cry, closing his eyes and focusing on staying consious.

He isn't sure how long he does this, but the next thing he knows Bobby's standing over him, shaking him gently but urgently. There are towels next to him, but Bobby isn't even moving to get them. Fear and worry shine in his eyes, and Dean snaps back to reality.

"Dean," Bobby says, worry coating the syllable, "where's Sam?"

Dean blink his eyes several times. Sam is nowhere to be seen. Even his blood is gone, leaving no trace of the young man.

They begin to hear the ambulance, but Dean would rather have Bobby dig out the bullet without anesthesia at this point, because he has no idea where Sammy is. And that's never, not even once, led to something good.

* * *

A/N 2:_ Any guesses as to where Sam is? I know, I know, another cliffhanger...I just really like them! I'll be in my panic room if you need me. Don't forget to leave a review and make me happy and more inclined to update faster! I really do have more motivation when you guys review, so...yeah. Thanks for reading!_

_-Jaq_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: The plot thickens! At last, we get to see Sam's side of things, and some new players in this fic! It's a longish chapter, but (and I hate to say it), it's going to be the only chapter for this entire week. I'm going to be leaving town and without wifi, so...no updating. That said, my update schedule will resume next Sunday. Thanks to Hades Lord of the Dead, mb64, Falchion, Naivaraeladrin, Sammysmissinghoe, ncsupnatfan, Sharllissa, EmCWolf, Sara B, Jenna, afreckledangel, and Dani for reviewing! You guys are fantastic! And now, onto the story!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

_The first thing Sam notices is that it doesn't hurt anymore. For the first time in...he doesn't know how long he was locked in the room- days, weeks? For the first time in a long time he doesn't hurt physically. He slowly opens his eyes, then shuts them again quickly because of the brightness. Squinting, he tries again. _

_Sam's in what appears to be a very nice Victorian- era manor house. It's got pale yellow walls with green and pink designs on the papering, and a large, ornate mirror to his left. _

_He also realizes he can think straight. He isn't questioning his identity, or anything else. Just...thinking. Normally. _

_Which leads to the obvious question of, "where the hell am I?"_

_Sam sits up slowly, looking around. Suddenly, Castiel is standing in front of him. The angel is looking at Sam in a complacent, piercing gaze. "Hello, Sam."_

_"C-Cas? Where am I?"_

_Castiel stepped forward slightly. "You are in a...what you might call a safe house. Other than that, it doesn't matter."_

_Sam's confused. The last thing he remembers is...shooting Dean. Oh, no, _Dean.

_"But...I was...I shot Dean. And myself. I should be dead," he says at last. _

_"Fortuently, you were not dead when I reached you. I have healed your wounds, and brought you here, away from the place your brother imprisoned you," Castiel replied. _

_Sam stood up. "Uh...why?"_

_"You have to kill Lilith. You are the only one capable. You have to kill her, before she breaks the final seal," Castiel says, his face grave. "We may have only hours to stop her. She cannot break the seal until tomorrow night, but it is crucial that we find and end her as soon as possible." _

_"Well...where is she?"_

_"I do not know." Castiel looks away. "I believe you have...contacts...from which you could procure that information?"_

Ruby_, Sam thinks at once. Of course. "Yeah. I- alright. Uh, can I leave now?"_

_"Sam, you have to understand. The fate of the world is on your shoulders. Do what you have to do," Castiel implores, looking back up at Sam. An almost regretful expression crosses his face before he steps closer to Sam and raisies his hand, two fingers poised to touch the man's temple. _

_"Wait. Dean. I- I shot him. Is he okay?" Sam says, remembeeing the way the blood had darkened his brother's shirt. It had been in his stomach- not fatal immediately, but if he didn't get to a hospital or something soon..._

_The angel pauses, looking Sam in the eye. Sam," Castiel says quietly, "I could only save you or Dean, in that instant. Your brother is still injured."_

_"Can't you go back and heal him too?"_

_"I cannot risk giving away my involvement," Cas states firmly. _

_"But you have to stop Lilith now," he continues. "We believe she is somewhere on the East Coast, so that's where I'll send you."_

_With a touch, Sam is transported into the parking lot of a bar. He quickly gets over the strangely disorienting feeling of angel-travel and looks around to the car liscense plates. Maryland. Great. Closer inspection of one car reveals a bumper sticker of the bar he's standing outside, reading "Lobster Bistro and Bar- est. 1973, Baltimore Maryland."_

_Well, the first thing he needs to do is contact Ruby. His cell phone isn't on him, of course, but there's a pay phone on the side of the building. Luckily, Dean left him with his wallet. _

_"Ruby," he says quickly as soon as the demon picks up._

_"Sam," she replies, sounding vaguely surprised. "Last I knew, your brother had you all locked up. What a nice surprise."_

_"Yeah, well, I got out. I'll be in the nearest hotel to the- uh- Lobster Bistro and Bar in Baltimore. How soon can you meet me?"_

_A slight pause. "I'll be there in four hours."_

_"Make it three. See you then." Sam hangs up, feeling relieved. Things were back on track. _

_The car selection at the bar is fairly nice, but since he won't be going far away Sam decides to hitch a ride. Five minutes later, he's sitting next to a woman in her late forties that's smoking a cigarette and telling him some story about her son that's about his age, and how she misses him (he's gone off to the University of Rhode Island for college) and if Sam's in college (no, he says, but he did use to attend Stanford), and how nice it must be and how was he liking Maryland? But at that point, Sam spots a Holiday Inn, thanks the woman (no problem, honey! You take care of yaself, ya hear? Good boy. Have a nice evening!), and enters. _

_Sam checks in as Jordan Wyman, who's expecting his girlfriend Ruby Black in about three hours. He gives the bellman Ruby's description and tells him to go ahead and give her a key when she arrives. _

_Sam's ordered a nice suite on the seventh and top floor, with a view of the Inner Harbor. He crashes on the king bed, thinking things over. _

_His room has a phone, which he can use to call Dean and make sure his brother is okay, but then again...Dean won't want to hear from Sam. Dean's probably just pissed that Sam escaped (even though, to be honest, it was partly Dean's fault). Sam sighs and rubs his eyes. It's going to be a long three hours. _

_Two hours and forty eight minutes later, the door opens and Ruby steps in, dressed in an all-black ensemble complete with a leather jacket. She cocks a hip. "So, we ready? I assume we're going to go find and kill Lilith?"_

_Sam nods. "Yeah. We don't have much time," he adds, remembering Castiel's words. _

_"Super. Luckily for you, I found one of Lilith's...associates. She's in the trunk."_

_Sam nods, his eyes trailing up Ruby's body. She notices, and raises an eyebrow. "We don't have time for that, not right now. Not if we want to kill Lilith before tomorrow night."_

_Sam nods again, somewhat reluctantly. He takes a deep breath. "Bring her in. I'll draw a trap."_

_Ruby exits, and Sam looks around for something he can use to mark the floor. After about a minute, his eyes settle on the mini-bar. There's a bottle of dark amber whiskey, and it's perfect for staining the finely woven off-white carpeting. In another minute, he has the trap drawn. _

_Ruby appears then, guiding the young woman with her knife. She shoves the possessed girl into the room and the stained-on Devil's trap, and then dusts her hands off. _

_"I know a spell that'll make this room sound-proof," she says. "It's fairly simple. I'll go do that. Sam, why don't you two get acquainted?"_

_Three hours later, they have Lilith's location. _

* * *

A/N 2_: I hope you enjoyed that! (And for those missing hurt Sam, don't worry. He'll be back.) If you're still liking this fic, please leave a review for me? They make my day :) Thanks for reading and have a great day!_

_-Jaq_


	11. Chapter 11 (Guys, I'm back!)

A/N:_ I'm back! AD I had a great trip, thank you so much for the lovely PMs and reviews! A huge thanks to Naivaraeladrin, Sharllissa, Sara B, Falchion, mb64, Sammysmissinghoe, ncsupnatfan, Dani, Kas3y, DaughterofNeptune313, and Jenna for reviewing! I apologize about not being able to get back to any of you about your awesome reviews; I crashed after getting back home and slept for sixteen hours straight! I was only just able to write and revise this for you. So, enjoy (if you're still reading this after such a long break between updates agh)! _

_-Jaq_

* * *

Sam, where was Sam...

Dean retches again, blood spewing out of his mouth and dribbling out of his nose at an alarming rate, not to mention the obvious wound to his stomach.

"Bobby..." he moans, following the grizzled man with his eyes as the veteran hunter moves efficiently around him.

Bobby leans down and presses a towel to Dean's stomach. It hurts, it hurts _so friggin' much,_ but Dean knows it's for the best so he grits his teeth and blinks back the wetness in his eyes and _deals with it._

The ambulance is blaring outside, and a loud banging suddenly fractures the air. Bobby swears and runs to get the door, leaving Dean alone for a few seconds.

In that time, Dean finally does something rational. Nearly crying out at the exertion it takes, he leans over and grabs the gun. Too many questions will come up if it's too obvious that the wound was inflicted purposely, by someone else, at close range. Dean doesn't like it at all, but he has the sense and experience to know that if it appears to be self-inflicted it will be easier to explain.

Three medical personnel rush down the stairs, their greenish scrubs blurring together. As soon as Dean's sure they've seen him holding the gun he lets it drop and relaxes, closing his eyes.

Sleep drags him down, pulling at him. He hasn't slept in almost two days, and the blood loss and trauma isn't helping. Vaguely, he's aware of being lifted onto a stretcher, then a gurney, and then into an ambulance, but as the paramedics begin with their instruments he slips off, his last thought of Sam.

Dean wakes up in a hospital bed wearing a nightgown and underwear, a tight bandage wrapped around himself. Almost immideately he remebers what's happened- he's had too much experience in hospitals to do something as stupid as lose his bearings and blurt out something potentially incriminating.

"Mr Sharp?" an orderly asks almost immidiately.

Dean nods, figuring that "Mr Sharp" was the alias Bobby had used for him.

"Where...can I talk to the guy that brought me here? He's about fifty, got a beer belly, wears a ball cap..." Dean wastes no time in asking for Bobby. Bobby's the only person who might have information about Sam, and no matter what kind of shape Dean's in, Sam was in worse.

"You've lost a lot of blood, but we've done transfusions and stitched you back up, so as long as your condition remains stable that should be alright. I'll send him in; he's been pacing in the waiting room for almost four hours."

Four hours. Four hours that Sam's been gone. Dean feels his heart quicken, and hears the machine to his left beep faster and faster in time.

"Mr Sharp! Please, try to calm down," the nurse exclaims, reaching down to touch Dean's wrist just above a pale green hospital wristband.

Dean tries, and in response his heartbeat slows fractionally. Sam. Sam, where was Sam? Someone must have taken him- there was no way the kid had walked out under his own steam. Demons? Angels, even? Trying to keep his heartbeat steady, Dean worries anxiously about where his brother could be.

The nurse leaves, and returns a few seconds later with an anxious-looking Bobby.

"You okay?" Bobby demands, giving Dean a once-over.

"I'll live," Dean replies, sending his surrogate father a questioning look. It didn't say much, but he knows Bobby will understand. _Sam_?

Bobby shakes his head almost imperceptibly, and Dean clenches his muscles. Not good. So, so not good.

"How soon can I leave?" Dean asks the nurse, who is still standing in the doorway.

"Tomorrow night at the very earliest. We have to make sure your wound has no risk of contracting an infection, and we have to determine that the internal wall of your stomach is healing properly," the nurse says. He absentmindedly tugs at one of his shoulder-length black curls, which just pisses Dean off. Screw infection. If the bullet's out and he's all bandaged up, there's nothing to worth about. He scowls.

"That's not good enough," Dean says vehemently.

"I apologize, Mr Sharp. But you have to stay at least twenty-four hours because of the high risk for infection."

Dean feels sick, and the nurse leaves with an apologetic glance.

"We could try Castiel."

Dean looks up at Bobby's suggestion, not having thought of the angel. "Yeah. Find out if he can locate Sam. Not a bad idea, actually. Cas!" he begins, "if you can hear me, we uh- we need you bad okay? Just- get here."

There's a slight rustling of feathers, and a man clad in a tan ttench coat appears in the small hospital bay.

"Cas, thank goodness. Alright, I need you to heal me and find out where Sam is."

Cas looks down and away, his eyes refusing to meet Dean's. "You will live from your injury, Dean," he says at last.

"What about Sam?"

"Your brother is fulfilling his purpose," Castiel says cryptically.

Purpose? What purpose? Whatever it is, it can't be good. "Cas, _where is he?_"

But Cas dissapears, and Dean curses loudoy. "He's using Sam, I know it! Sam isn't thinking straight, can't make decisions...Bobby, you gottag get me out of here."

Suddenly, there's a tremor, and the heart rate machine starts beeping erratically. The lights begin to flicker, and Dean gets a horrible feeling in his gut. Lights flickering is never good, and combined with the ever-worsening earthquake...Dean's downright terrified.

And then everything, even the machines, go dark. Dean's alone, and in the darkness he can't even make out Bobby standing beside him. He cranes his neck to look through the window, and is met with the same thing. Even the stars are gone. Dean can only pray (if that will even do any good at this point) that Sam has nothing to do with it, but in the back of his mind he knows better.

* * *

A/N 2:_ Any guesses as to what's happening/about to happen? *slightly evil laughter* I promise I will update either tomorrow or the next day, which is fantastic, no? Please leave a review if you enjoyed! Seriously, please? They make my day and are just super awesome in general. I really love hearing from you guys! Thanks for reading, and have a nice day!_

_-Jaq_


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Wow! The response to that last chapter...amazing, really! I'm glad to have the next chapter up so soon. All your questions (well, some of them) should be answered. And some new ones should be brought up...but first, a gigantic thanks to Falchion, VattaKeto, Naivaraeladrin, Sara B, mb64, Sharllissa, DaughterofNeptune313, Sammysmissinghoe, Guest, ncsupnatfan, and Jenna for reviewing the last chapter! You guys rock! And now, onto chapter twelve..._

_-Jaq_

* * *

_"Sam," Ruby says cautiously, "we can't just leave her here. And you're gonna need a lot of juice to take Lilith."_

_Sam knows that. Knows that if he is going to kill Lilith, he has to- to drink a lot of blood, but he also knows that the woman is still there, along with the demon. She'd die as soon as the demon left, but...she'd be- in there- as Sam collected the blood. He clenches his jaw. "I know."_

_"I'm sorry, Sam, but we don't have a choice. We're running out of time, and the drive will still take a while."_

_"I know that!" Sam snaps. He knows, it's just...he used to use his powers for good. Only for good. And killing Lilith is good, he thinks. Do the ends justify the means? Robespierre thought so, but Sam Winchester is still doubting. Wondering how good can come from having to bleed out a young girl. But now isn't the time to doubt; now is the time to act. _

_"Alright," he says. "Do it."_

_Ruby nods, and she coldly walks over with her knife. There's a shhk noise, and then she calls for Sam to com over. He does, sucking down the blood from the woman's neck as fast as he can. _

_It feels so, so good. Power, coursing through his veins like fire. Sam feels the power, needs it. Lusts for it when he doesn't have it, and loves it when he does. Right now, he'd do anything to keep drinking, just keep drinking it down._

_All too soon, the girl's bled dry, but Sam can feel the new power burning through him. He smiles. "Let's gank this bitch," he says, and then falters slightly. That's something Dean would have said. "Let's go."_

_They take the car Ruby used, and drive the few hours necessary to reach the church where Lilith is. Flinging open the door, Sam strides in. _

_He finds Lilith in the back room, by an altar. She's waiting for him, and smiles. "Hello, Sammy."_

_Sam remains unfazed, reaching out an arm. He tenses his muscles and squeezes, _wills_ Lilith to die. _

_She's surprised by his power. Not so confident now, she begins to cough black smoke. It sizzles up, and Sam can feel himself winning. _

_"Sam!" a voice calls from behind him. He hears it, but doesn't pay attention. All of his energy is focused on the demon writhing near his feet. _

_"Sam!" the voice calls again. "Sam, stop! I can't stop you, you have to stop it yourself!"_

_Sam's annoyed, and he wants Lilith to die already. As if his wish is granted, she suddenly stops writhing. A smile lights her lips, which Sam sees as odd, but her body flashes orange dully, and she keels over. _

_Dead. _

_"Sam!" _

_He whips around to see the source of the voice. Castiel. Ruby is dead at his feet, a red stain above her heart. Sam wonders why the angel would be there. After all, wasn't this exactly what Castiel had wanted? Sam's suddenly angry. So, so angry. He wants to kill Castiel. _

_A light from behind him distracts him, and suddenly he's aware that Lilith's blood has formed some sort of sigil. And a thin-but rapidly expanding- column of white light is emanating from the center. Sam's eyes widen._

_"Sam, killing Lilith didn't stop her from breaking the final seal. She was the final seal," Castiel shouts. "I didn't know until seconds ago, we have to get out of here before Lucifer rises fully-"_

_But Sam doesn't register everything, just that Castiel had lied- lied! to him. And that makes him mad. He glares, extending a hand. _

_Cas' eyes suddenly widen in shock. "Sam," he says, clearly shaken, "we need to get out of here."_

_In a swift movement, Castiel reaches over and touches Sam's forehead. Immediately, the young man and the angel are transported to a hospital bay. _

_"Hello?"_

_It's dark, but Sam doesn't have to see to know that voice._

_"Dean," he says brokenly. "Dean, I'm sorry."_

_"Sam? Sam! Are you okay? Are you- what happened?" Sam can hear bed sheets rustling as Dean struggles to sit up. _

_"Dean," begins Castiel, but Sam stops him. _

_"Dean," Sam says, swallowing hard. "I did it. I let the devil out of his cage."_

* * *

A/N 2:_ Whoops. Sammy, you did it again! How do you guys think Dean will react to this?...anyways, thanks as always for reading! Reviews, anyone? I'm almost to one hundred reviews on this story, can you believe it? I can't. Anyway, 100th reviewer gets a oneshot because I'm thirsty for reviews and need more prompts, so...yeah. Review away! Have a great day. _

_-Jaq_


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: _Wow! Big response to last chapter- 14 reviews! And we passed 100 reviews in 12 chapters, so yeah, that's pretty awesome. Huge thanks to redyellowgreenandblue, Gracie, Falchion (you were the 100th reviewer, congrats, I owe you a oneshot which you can describe to me in a review since you always do so as a guest), mb64, Hades Lord of the Dead, ellie . reynolds . 777, VattaKeto, Naivaraeladrin, DaughterofNeptune313, Jenna, Sammysmissingshoe, and Sara B. You guys are fantastic! _

_Well, most of you seemed to think Dean would be pretty angry at Sam, so here's your chance to find out! Enjoy._

-_Jaq_

* * *

Dean's lying there, not sure what to do. The hospital is quiet without the electric hum of the fluorescent lights, and the steady beeping of machines.

Suddenly, he sees the dark just in front of him grow darker, imperceptibly, as if someone- or something, as is more likely the case in his situation- is there.

"Hello?" he asks cautiously.

There is a sharp intake of breath. "Dean...Dean, I'm sorry," comes a voice. Sam. However, Sam shot himself, not to mention the younger man's questionable lucidity. There were any number of creatures that could mimic voices, after all.

Still, nothing has attacked him yet. "Sam?" Dean asks, his voice tight and worried, "Sam! Are you okay? Are you- what happened?" he says, words spilling out of his mouth. Dean struggles to sit up, clenching his muscles because, patched up or not, it still _hurts_.

"Dean," another, lower voice intones. Castiel.

But Cas is cut off by Sam. "Dean," his brother says, the word quivering slightly. There's a slight pause. "I did it. I let the devil out of his cage."

Of all the things Sam could have said, Dean thinks, that's pretty much the worst. He clenches his jaw. "You- you _what_?" he says angrily, traces of worry hidden behind rage. Next to his bed, Bobby, who had remained silent, draws in a sharp breath.

There's a moment of silence again, and then Sam repeats his previous phrase. "Killing Lilith was the final seal, Dean," he monotones.

Dean swears for a good thirty seconds before he recovers from that statement. Dimly, he can hear Bobby shouting at Sam, but his mind only has room for one thought right now, and it's that his little brother started the apocalypse. Finally he finishes, chest heaving. (He also decides that, for the near future, it's a bad idea to get worked up. It makes his wound hurt more.)

"I thought you were going to die," he says at last. Dean's pissed as all get out, _hell yes_. But he still doesn't want Sam to die.

"That was me," Castiel adds. "I...did not realize the final seal until it was too late. By that time, Sam was too powerful and involved to be stopped. Under the influence of the demon blood, he was...not himself."

"Not myself?" Sam snorts. "I wanted to kill you." His voice is bitter, but Dean can detect- barely- anger underneath. This Sam isn't back to normal, not by a long shot.

There's a very pregnant silence, ad Dean strains to make out the figures. He can't see them, just patches of darker dark.

Suddenly, a column of light is visible through the window, so bright it's almost blinding.

"We need to go," Cas suddenly snaps, grabbing hold of Dean's arm. Before Dean can protest, he feels a jerk behind his navel, and they're at Bobby's.

The lights are out at Bobby's, too, but the old man knows his way around enough to light some candles, and soon everyone can see each other, more or less. Dean makes his way over to the sofa, where he sits gingery, trying /very hard/ not to rupture his stitches. It's painful, after a minute of situating he gets into a semi-comfortable position.

Bobby speaks first, having just watched Dean suffer in silence. "Alright, Cas, before anything else, can you heal Dean? He's too stubborn to say it but he's clearly hurting."

Dean nods tightly, but his gaze is drawn over to Sam. The young man is sweating, even though Bobby keeps his house below room temperature. Sam doesn't meet Dean's eyes, just stares a hole in the ground.

"Yeah, Cas. Uh, heal me, thanks," Dean repeats.

Cas walks over and touches Dean's forehead. And frowns. Dean can't feel any relief from the pain, just a faint tingling sensation. He frowns, too.

"Cas?" he asks, worry creeping into his tone.

"I...it's my power. Healing requires a full connection, a flowing connection, of Grace to Heaven," he begins worriedly. More worried than Dean's ever seen Cas. "Somehow...the connection has been splintered, broken. I can't."

Dean curses loudly, and Sam hunches even lower.

"Well, why would that happen?" Dean says tightly, trying to keep his voice even.

Cas looks away. "I did...try to stop Sam," he says. "I rebelled, in the last few seconds... that could be the reason. The rest of the angels…they _want_ the apocalypse."

"Yeah, about Sam. Does he need more detox?" Bobby butts in, crossing his arms and giving Sam a look.

"Yes," Castiel says without missing a beat.

Sam is quivering visibly now, his eyes wide. Dean's suddenly struck by how _young _he looks, how vulnerable. He shrinks away as Castiel walks towards him.

"You brought this upon yourself, Sam," Cas says sadly. "I really am sorry."

Cas touches Sam, and they both disappear. Dean turns to Bobby. "Help me down the stairs," he grits. "And get my sleeping bag, will you?"

Bobby walks over to Dean and wordlessly offers a steadying hand as the hunter walks down the flight of steps.

Dean can hear Sam whimper inside the room, and the clink of the handcuffs. He runs a hand through his hair.

All this, and they're back where they started. Sam inside, Dean outside. Only this time, the odds are much, much worse.

* * *

A/N 2: _What did you think? I hope Dean's reaction is done okay...and I'm a little worried about Bobby and Cas' characterizations, so...yeah, any thoughts? For those of you looking for more hurt Sammy, I promise he's gonna get a lot of that next chapter! Please review if you enjoyed. Your reviews are so awesome. Have a great day!_

_-Jaq_


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Here's the hurt Sam so many of you have been holding out for! Thanks to Hades Lord of the Dead, EmCWolf, Falchion, ellie . reynolds . 777, afreckledangel, Sharllissa, VattaKeto, Sammysmissinghoe, Naivaraeladrin, Sara B, and Jenna for reviewing. Thanks also to everyone who has followed and favorited this- 31 follows? Wow! _

_Also. I don't usually do this, but I was listening to Bad by U2 (love this band with a passion), and I thought of this story. So. Yeah, here are some of the lyrics. You should listen to that song as you read this, seriously. Okay. _

Bruised silken sky and burning flag  
Colors crash, collide in blood shot eyes

If I could, you know I would  
If I could, I would let it go, this desperation, dislocation  
Separation, condemnation, revelation  
In temptation, isolation, desolation

Let it go and so fade away, to let it go

-_Bad_, U2

_Seriously, I encourage you to listen. Alright, onto the story. Enjoy!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

_Not again. Please, not again. Sam's sorry, sorry, so, so, sorry, but it doesn't change anything. _

_Still feels the cuffs lock back into place, feels the emptiness of the room, knows that oh Sam you are well and truly alone, now. _

_Sam thinks that maybe Dean cared, because he took him out of the room (but no, it's more like a cell, a cell that shackles and holds and is not free) but Sam got free and he screwed it all up again, but this time it's _worse_, because this time Sam's ruined it for the whole world and really, Sam just can't do anything right, can he?_

_He was trying to start the apocalypse, not save it._

_No, wrong way- he was trying to save it. _

_He's wide awake, can't sleep in this room. Can't relax. _

_Sam cries, crashes, because finally he knows he's really done it. Sure, he was bad befoe, but now..._

_Isolation, wide awake, the cuffs, Sam's not sleeping now, not doing anyting except screaming because no matter what it won't stop burning, burning up inside him. _

_Burning._

_Pain is splitting his body apart from the inside, tearing him, burning, killing him, but Sam won't die. He tried before, but he just got better just in time to start it all._

_This time it isn't as much anger, just hopelessness. Sam feels the walls closing in on him, enclosing like the coffin that should, pushing, squeezing, trapping. _

_There's sounds, almost like voices, that call out to mock, to spite, to spit, to curse._

_Always Sam, always burning _

_Hurting_

_Suddenly it isn't dark anymore, and Sam can see- see Alistair, and Dean. And Alistair is the one clapping this time, while Dean is standing there looking disgusted. They can't see each other, just Sam_

_Sam sees it all_

_How Dean shouts and curses and says what a dissapointment Sam is, what a failure..._

_And Alistair is telling Sam how he finally lived up to his potential, how at last Sam is worth something,_

_And that little voice, the one that's been silent for so long, telling Sam that maybe this is who he was meant to be, and I'm telling him what Sam already knows, that he's just not meant for good, that Sam's just a bad person. _

_Sam's been screwed since he was a baby. _

_The world's been screwed since Sam was a baby._

_If only Sam could have lived some normal, boring life that didn't include messing up the whole world then maybe he could have ignored it but no, he can't_

_He just can't and he's sorry he's so sorry_

_He can't find it _

_Can't find that piece of him that used to be so strong, that piece of him that was carefree and willing to smile and was so sure he would get out of all this one day._

_Sam thinks maybe he can't find it, ever, because maybe it doesn't exist. _

_He's bleeding out slowly, losing the old Sam and becoming me, becoming that horrible twisted version of himself that he loves and loathes, that no matter what he can't destroy unless he destroys himself too (and he tried that and it didn't work, just made everything worse)_

_Everything's bloody, red, burning, all because of Sam_

_Burning _

_It's too hot in the room, too cold, too covered in red_

_He fainty hears the screams and then he realizes they're his_

_Soon they'll be others' screams_

_Mothers (did his mother scream as she burned on the ceiling?)_

_Fathers (his father screamed at Sam sometimes)_

_Sisters (Sam's never had one)_

_Brothers (Dean would scream. He'd be so angry)_

_Babies (Sam was a baby when he was poisoned)_

_Children (Sam never really got to be a kid)_

_Grandparents (did they scream when they died?)_

_Lovers (Jess screamed) _

_Everyone everyone everyone all screaming because of Sam_

_Screaming_

_Dying, being killed, being bathed in their own red blood (dark red)_

_Burning_

_All because Sam can't control me, can't control himself (maybe he doesn't think he knows how)_

_A knife twists in his side, a real knife, and he cries out because it hurts, everything hurts, he's dissolving into blood and blood_

_He's burning_

_The knife slides down and it's slow and it hurts and Sam's drowning in it and it isn't ever going to change. Not this time. This time he isn't going to be let out. Not now and not ever. _

* * *

A/N 2: _so, I wanna know. Did any of you go look up and listen to the song? If so, virtual cookie and kudos and basically you're awesome. _

_Also: Falchion, my 100th reviewer, requested a oneshot of clinically depressed Sam, which is now up on my page. If you're looking for some more hurt Sam, maybe you could check it out? Thanks!_

_Please review what you thought of this chapter. The next one should be up soon and with it more angst and maybe more plot! _

_Have a great day as always and thanks for reading. _

_-Jaq_


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: _Hey there! I know I'm updating a day late...okay. So I put another story up, and dice I try to update one story a day, I'll probably alternate stories. So this story goes from one update a day to one every other day. Maybe on good days I'll update them both. Weekends, maybe? Anyways, here's the next chapter. But first, high fives to Sammysmissinghoe, DaughterofNeptune313, mb64, Naivaraeladrin,VattaKeko, Sara B, Guest, Jenna, Sharllissa, Leandra Falconwing, and ncsupnatfan! Thanks for reviewing. You guys make my day. But hugs to everyone reading this too. Even though I have no idea who you are. Please don't be a stalker; that's just creepy. Okay, enough babbling. Enjoy the chapter!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

Dean drags the sleeping bag down to the door, hunched over a little so that he doesn't run the risk of tearing stitches. The door is solid and black, and from inside Dean can hear Sam whimpering, calling out, and repeating over and over the words "so alone so alone so alone."

_Well, Sammy, we can fix that for now,_ he thinks, a grimace forcing its way out. Sam might just have to get used to being alone. Worried as he is about his brother, there's also the not-so-small fact that Sam has just started the end of the world, and if that isn't a cause to be pissed then Dean doesn't know what is.

But he still grunts, pulling open the heavy latch and pushing the door open.

Cas dis his job well.

Sam's wrists and ankles are secured to the cot with handcuffs, and there's a loose strap going across his lower chest that allows some motion, but not enough to let Sam be thrown off of the bed and left to dangle until he has the strength to pull himself up. Dean had thought of that idea after taking a look at the welts on his brother's limbs and realizing what must have happened.

He spreads the sleeping bag down on the floor close (but not too close) to Sam. Dean loves his little brother, sure, but right now he kind of wants to punch Sam in the face, hard.

Several times.

I mean, how badly can you screw up? Dean remembers Sam saying once that the Winchesters were cursed, and he's finally starting to believe it.

Nothing can quite top loosing the devil in terms of major oops.

Dammit! Dean is just so angry. At Sam, at Cas, at everyone. Mostly himself, because even though the tiny rational part of his brain says that he couldn't have done anything, Dean is convinced he could have. If only he hadn't let Sam out. If only he hadn't let Sam get the gun. If only he'd learned the final seal thing sooner and told his brother.

Seven billion odd people in the world, and Dean has to save them all of watch them burn because he couldn't stop his little brother from starting the apocalypse.

Well. He could have avoided the whole shebang by staying strong and not torturing anyone down below. Deep down, Dean's convinced he's not actually such a great person. Sure, he covers it up with cheap jokes and alcohol, but Dean would give a lot to just forget it all. Get a fresh start, back to the days when it was just him and Sam, road tripping across the country. His dad had been there too, but in Dean's redo version it was just him and Sam.

In the redo version Sam never died, Dean never sold his soul...never broke the fist seal, never let Sam start Armageddon.

Unfortuently the redo version was a steaming pile of crap, a bucket of lies inside Dean's head. The real world isn't going to play nice.

Dean steals one last glance at Sam before exiting again. Sam in't going anywhere. Not this time. Cas had even written angel warding on the panic room door (at least, Dean had snapped at him to after recalling that handy bit of information that the angels _wanted_ the apocalypse), so nobody was busting Sam out.

Especially not Dean. He'd learned his lesson the first time.

Cas and Bobby are upstairs, arguing over somthing Dean can't quite hear.

When he gets to the floor, he steps just behind the wall and listens.

"-sounds to me like you had a pretty big roll in the whole thing, actually," growls Bobby.

"I was following my orders," Cas replied in a voice uncharacteristically angry.

"Well maybe you oughta try and think for yourself for once!"

"I did!"

"Yeah, well, a little sooner could have helped a lot more," Bobby snarks.

There's silence, and the the soft flapping that Dean kmows means Cas has flown off omewhere.

"Well, boy, how much didja hear?" Bobby calls loudly.

"Just two of the only people on our side arguing about things they can't change," Dean says, anger shining in his voice. "We're all friggin' pissed about Sam, okay? But we can't just yell at each other!"

Bobby gives Dean a dubious look. "Well then, what would you suggest?"

"Find out if there's a way to stop the apocalypse, for starters. Yeah, that'd be nice."

"You can't," Castiel says flatly.

"How would you know? You didn't even know how to start it!" Dean snaps back at him.

Cas purses his lips and doesn't reply.

"I'll see if there's any lore on it," Bobby says, but he sounds doubtful.

"Great. And any time you get your mojo back, Cas, feel free to heal the gaping wound in my stomach. I'm gonna go check on Sam."

Dean turns to go away, but Bobby clears his throat.

"Yeah?"

"Dean...about Sam."

"Yeah?"

"I don't know, Dean. Maybe he can't be saved."

* * *

A/N 2:_ So yeah, I stole Bobby's line from the show, kind of. But I really think this is a more appropriate time for it, how about you? Leave a review, pretty please? They make my day so much better and it's nice to hear from you. Seventeen more reviews until 150, can you believe it? And I originally posted this as a oneshot. Well, thanks for reading! Have a good day (or night, depending on where you are) :D_

_-Jaq_


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: Well, this chapter is a little confusing, but I hope you'll like it. Thanks to Naivaraeladrin, Kas3y, VattaKeto, Sharllissa, ellie reynolds 777, DaughterofNeptune313, Emeraldwings90, mb64, Sara B, Sammysmissinghoe, Jenna, Leandra Falconwing, and ncsupnatfan for your reviews! Seeing the same people review again and again makes me so happy inside :)_

_enjoy! -Jaq_

* * *

_he room is spinning spinning spinning faster and faster and it won't stop until Sam is dead._

_And even then it might not stop, but Sam won't care because Sam will be dead._

_Pressing, enclosimg, heat, blistering heat, all burning up. All burning. His feet hurt his legs hurt his chest hurts his arms hurt his hands hurt his head hurts it all just hurts and it isn't stopping_

_Sam can't get out_

_Hears a voice and looks and it's Dean and Sam knows Dean will just yell so he closes his eyes _

_Tries to block out Dean and the rest of the world with him_

_And all he can think of is that stupid song Dean played that time he got the flu and couldn't argue enough to complain about the music and he doesn't know why but Sam supposes that having a song stuck in your head is better than pain and nothing else (but really, Sam can't listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd again without thinking of thirteen-yead old Dean singing "Free Bird" into a comb dramatically while Sam tried not to cough his guts out)_

_And Sam wants to hit something because he isn't free he is not free he is and will never will be free so why can't he just STOP?_

_He opens his eyes and Dean's shaking and blurry but he's yelling and Sam's trying so hard to ignore it but he can't_

worthless

hopeless

you started the damn apocalypse Sammy what makes you think I even want a brother anymore

_And Sam hears the nickname but it isn't joking or worried and it isn't Dean shouting when Sam's hurt (well it is) no no no Sammy is scathing and Sammy is the worst possible thing_

_Sammy _

_Sam remembers what Sammy was like and he wants it but he can't have that_

_Can't have anything except the room and the blood and the screaming._

_Can't even have Sammy_

Please, Sam, we'll get through this_, Sam you're weak you're unforgivable Sam you deserve this says the Dean standing next to the bed_

_But Sam knows that already_

_Dean hates him and so do Bobby and Cas and Dad hated him and probably Mom too in the last moments of her life because she saw her baby become a monster and then she died_

_Everyone Sam loves dies_

_Even Dean, Dean died for Sam because Sam can't even take care of himself_

Sammy I'm pretty mad but you're still my brother _you're not my brother. Sammy is long gone. I don't even want to waste a bullet, Sam. I'll leave you here says Dean again and Sam sees the anger in his face the loathing_

_Suddenly Dean reaches out and Sam sees Dean hitting him but all he feels are cool fingertips on his forehead and Sam can't even trust his own eyes anymore and Sam sees Dean hitting him and he feels it, feels the pain, but underneath there are the cool fingertips but then they dissapear and the pain comes back_

_Sam's a monster and Dean's gotta stop him but he failed, he let Sam out of his cage and Sam started the end of the world and Sam should stay in his cage from now on because that's what he deserves_

_More cool fingers under the pain but they flicker, in out in out in out, Sam has to concentrate so hard to feel them_

_Mostly it's the pain, his throat raw and scraping and his muscles aching and his head splitting apart and his whole body on fire_

_He wants to cry but his eyes are sizzling, their moisture sapped, plus he can't cry with Dean standing there sneering_

_He can't cry he has to face his repercussions and it hurts_

_He's shaking all over and there's a pressure on his forehead and he watches Dean go from concerned to happy that Sam's in pain flicker happy concerned happy concerned, punch to Sam's face, hand on his foredead_

_Old Dean New Dean_

_Old Dean was funny and he was smart and he always knew what to say and do and he was always, always there for Sam_

_New Dean is just anger and dissapointment and Sam doesn't like New Dean as much but Sam knows that New Dean is the real one and he isn't mad at his brother he's just tired of it all and tired of the pain and the constant reminding that Sam can't do it_

_Sometimes Alistair congratulates Dean, sometimes Ruby stands and strokes his head (but not the way Dean does. Ruby is all fingernail, and she doesn't avoid the little scar that smarts whenever it's touched by his left eye that Dean does) and tells him that he's perfect and before Sam would have smiled but he doesn't want to be perfect, not for her, not anymore_

_Sam wants to be perfect for Dean again_

* * *

A/N 2_: Gah, I hope that made sense...if it didn't, tell me and I'll get back to you...anyways, thanks for reading. If you like this still, leave a review? Do you guys like these chapters with Sam or are they just too confusing? Have a great day. _

_-Jaq_


	17. Chapter 17

A/N:_ I'm so glad so many people liked the last chapter! I hope this one is suitable as well...thanks to VattaKeto, ellie reynolds 777, Sara B, Leandra Falconwing, Sammysmissinghoe, LittleSilence, DaughterofNeptune313, Sharllissa, ncsupnatfan, Naivaraeladrin, Kas3y, and Jenna for reviewing! You guys rock! And now, onto more Dean angst. _

_-Jaq_

* * *

"_I don't know, Dean. Maybe he can'rbe saved."_

Dean gapes at Bobby, anger building itself higher within him. Despite his earlier comment about not shouting, he raises his voice. "Don't you _dare_ say that, Bobby," he snarls. "Don't you _dare_."

Bobby remains silent and Dean continues back down the steps. The rational part of him knows that all this arguing is getting them nowhere and what he really needs to do is find out just how much Cas knows, but that part's being shoved to the back at the moment by the sparring desires to yell at his brother and to go comfort him and tell Sam that it's ok, that Dean knows Sam had good intentions and was manipulated the whole time.

Either way, he has to face his brother, which is going to take a lot.

Dean can hear Sam from the stairs already, and it's only been a couple hours. Vaguely, he wonders just how much blood Sam had to ingest to kill Lilith so easily, but decides he's better off not knowing.

Sam's screaming out in pain, but in between the screamz Dean can hear him mumbling something. He walks over to the door as fast as his injury allows him and rests his hands on the door.

"Dean! Sam's sorry, so, so, sorry, all burning up," Sam says, the beginning screaming but trailing off into a mumble by the end. He screams again.

Dean turns the heavy iron handle and strides into the room. His sleeping bag lies undisturbed a couple feet away from the cot on which Sam is writhing, his eyes focused on air.

"N-not free not free not free," Sam sobs, flinching out of rhythm. "Worthless hopeless you're right Dean you're right Sam is so sorry so sorry Dean _please_-"

"Please, Sam, we'll get through this," Dean tells his brother, unsure if Sam can even hear him. All desire to hurt his younger brother is gone, seeing him pale and sweaty and pitiful and tied to a cot while partially out of his mind. It makes Dean want to cry. Why'd you have to do it, Sam?

"Know that," Sam mumbles, and for a second Dean thinks maybe Sam's heard him. "Know it's unforgivable deserve this sorry Dean so sorry..."

Maybe not. Dean sighs. He doesn't know what to say. What are you supposed to say when your brother is suffering hallucinations induced by demon blood? There isn't exactly a manual.

"Hates Sam, hates me, not even brothers anymore, everyone is gone, died, everyone..." Sam trails off, not making much sense. Another scream rips through his throat.

"I-I'm pretty mad, Sam, but we're still brothers," Dean falters. That's still true, right? Even after everything, they're still brothers, right?

"Won't even waste a bullet..." Sam continues.

Dean reaches out hesitantly and touches Sam's forehead with his fingerips. His younger brother is burning up-hot and feverish.

At his touch, Sam flinches, and for a fraction of a second Dean swears he makes eye contact and hope flares up inside him, but it's gone just as quickly.

Dean keeps his fingers on Sam's forehead for a long time, and then his whole hand, brushing Sam's bangs over his head. Sam keeps flinching, but every so often Dean thinks Sam's aware of his presence, and that's enough to keep him there with his hand on his brother's forehead.

"Wanna be perfect for you, Dean," Sam mumbles, tears leaking out.

"Shh, Sammy," Dean says. Before, he might have said 'you already are' without missing a beat, but now...truth is, Sam is about as far from perfect as one can get, and he wasn't exactly discreet or ashamed of it. More like shoving it in Dean's face, insisting he knew better. Dean isn't one to talk, of course, seeing as he's the one that used to love torturing souls, but together they make a screwed-up pair.

Sam screams again, a gut-wrenching sound that echoes around the small room.

"I wish it didn't have to be like this, Sammy," Dean says quietly, thinking of Redo World.

"So tired, so tired..." Sam breathes, his voice cracked from yelling so much.

"Me too, buddy, me too." Dean gives a humorless smile.

Tired of life and all that, but tired as in exhausted too. Dean lets his hand drop from Sam's forehead (the responding look he gets, as if Sam suddenly fills with despair and has been recently hit with an anvil, is so hard to watch he almost puts it back) and steps back a step.

His sleeping bag is black, lightweight, waterproof, and supremely uncomfortable on a concrete floor. That's okay. Dean didn't really plan on getting a lot of sleep anyways- between Sam's screams and his own dark thoughts, it would have been difficult on a feather mattress.

Still, he crawls into it and turns to face Sam. He's just far enough away that he can see his brother's face if he looks up.

So he keeps looking up, no matter what.

* * *

A/N 2: P_oor Dean. I hope you enjoyed this chapter? In a bit, the plot will pick up again, I promise...trust me. If you liked this chapter, leave a review! Especially if you're new to this story, I love to see new people reviewing. Actually anyone reviewing. Anyways, carry on. Thanks for reading and have a spectacular day. For anyone who cares, I will be updating _On Wednesday We Kill Things_ later today. _

_-Jaq_


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: Hey there! Well, here is the eighteenth chapter...I'm not entirely happy with it, but I can't decide why, so I decided to post it anyway. I hope you won't hate it too much..._

_Giant thank-yous to Naivaraeladrin, VattaKeto, Sara B, LittleSilence, Sharllissa, mb64, DaughterofNeptund313, Leandra Falconwing, ncsupnatfan, Kas3y, Sammysmissinghoe, and Jenna for your reviews! Huge apology if I didn't respond to your reviews- I've had a lot going on and I just didn't get around to it yesterday. Forgive me? I hope you enjoy this chapter, with the buds of the promised plot peeking through. _

_-Jaq_

* * *

_Sam wakes up and he isn't sure how much time has passed, how much time since...that. The event that he doesn't want to think about. _

_He doesn't try to sit up. He can feel new raw strips on his ankles and wrists, and the gentle pressure of...something. He looks down. A belt straps his midriff to the cot. That's new. Sam doesn't have room to feel angry, or energy to yell, to scream that he's finished, he thinks..._

_Sam just feels empty. A shell. He doesn't even want to leave the room, knows that it'd be better if he just stays chained to the cot._

_Still, his throat is scraped raw, and he's thirsty._

_"Dean?" he calls, the vocalization hurting his throat. He swallows dryly. _

_There's a shift near him, and Sam lifts and turns his head so that he can barely see it's cause. _

_Dean's head pops out from a sleeping bag that's tucked against the side of the cot. His hair is rumpled, and the circles under his eyes betray him. Sam feels more guilt wash over him. _

_He screwed everything up, deliberately disobeying- and _shooting_- his brother, and Dean still sits by his bed in a sleeping bag to make sure he's okay, probably not sleeping at all. _

_"Sam? You...good?" The voice is gentle, but there's a new edge of steel. No Sammy this time. Just Sam. Sam knows that he gets on Dean about his nickname, but Sam isn't the old Sammy anymore. Dean might let it slip when Sam's hurt, but he won't joke around with it any longer. Sam's dug a trench, an irreparable trench, and unleashing the devil was the dynamite that blew it apart and destroyed any hope of filling it back in. Now, there'll always be a gap. _

_Sam nods. Talking hurts too much. He vaguely remembers the Dean from his detoxification- berating, cursing, telling Sam that he didn't even want a brother. Sam winces. Was that true? "W...water," he croaks out. _

_Dean immediately climbs out of his sleeping bag. Sam notices all too well the stiff way he walks, the way he lightly touches his stomach. _

_And he just wants to give up. _

_Dean returns from the room carrying a water bottle. He unbuckles the belt, allowing Sam to sit up, and leans down to uncuff Sam's right hand. Unscrewing the water bottle, he places it in Sam's hand, eyeing his brother closely. It doesn't go unnoticed by Sam that his left hand and both his feet are still securely cuffed in. _

_All other thoughts disappear, however, as soon as Sam starts swallowing the cool, fresh water. He's taken only a few sips when Dean takes it from him._

_"You need to eat something or all that water'll make you upchuck. I'll get a slice of bread and a banana, okay?"_

_Sam nods again, rubbing his left wrist with his right. _

_When Dean is gone, Sam collapses back on the cot, the springs protesting squeakily. What now?_

_He supposes they have to look for a way to stop the apocalypse now. Some way to...do...something, he finishes lamely. _

_Suddenly, the door closes. Sam looks over. Nobody._

_"Sam..." a voice breathes. Sam turns, starting at the familiar voice. _

_And there she stands. "Jess?" he asks, not believing for a second. He would love to believe it, of course, but it was just a hallucination. Just another dream. Don't get your hopes up, Sam. _

_"Not quite." Jess shimmers, and turns into a blonde man in his thirties. Sam balks slightly._

_"Who...are you?" he asks, hating the way his voice quivers. Talking still hurts so much..._

_"You don't recognize me? I suppose the vessel is a bit anticlimactic. Come on, Sam. You let me out, after all."_

_Sam's throat tightens. "Lucifer." It's a statement, not a question. _

_The blond man nods, smiling. He reaches out, and Sam instinctively leans away. He can't, though, because of the cuffs. Sam closes his eyes, tensing. _

_"Sam, I'm dissapointed. Why would I want to hurt you? You let me out. And you're mine, after all."_

_"Yours?" Sam asks, gritting his teeth. _

_Lucifer smiles and the cuffs unsnap, Sam's wrist and ankle burns disappearing at the same time. "My vessel."_

_Sam inhales sharply, fear flaring in his eyes. "Your vessel?" He whispers, the word slipping out of his lips like a snake._

_"All you have to do is say yes. I can bring them back, Sam. Jess, your parents..." as he says their names, semitransparent versions of them swirl around Sam. _

_Just then, Dean returns with food and Lucifer disappears._

_Dean's glance hardens as he sees Sam's release. "How'd you get out? There's no way you could have picked all three of them in the amount of time I was gone. You use your freaky powers?"_

_"Dean," Sam says quietly, his gaze at Dean's feet. _

_"What?"_

_"I...Lucifer was here."_

_"Here? As in, this room?" Dean says, his eyebrows shooting up. He pulls out a gun, shifting the food to his left arm. Sam knows it won't do any good, but he also knows it makes Dean feel better. _

_Sam nods._

_"Damn. Stay here. No, I'm not leaving you alone. Forget the food, we need to see Cas."_

_Sam follows Dean up the stairs to where Bobby is sitting and Cas is standing, looking off into space forlornly._

_As soon as Dean and Sam enter, Cas opens his mouth._

_Dean cuts him off, getting straight to the point. "Lucifer was here, Cas," he says pointedly._

_"I know."_

_"And there wasn't anything you could do?"_

_"No," Cas says simply. "I can prevent you from being found by angels, of course, but that would include myself."_

_"Do it. Now."_

_"Are you-"_

_"I'm pretty damn sure, Cas."_

_Castiel nods and rolls up his sleeve. He walks over to Dean, who looks at him uncertainly._

_There was a slight flash, Dean winces, grabbing his chest. At first Sam thinks it's his stomach wound, but he's holding his ribcage. "Cas," he grits, "what the hell?"_

_"I carved Enochian sigils directly onto your ribs. It will prevent angels from being able to sense you. It also dissuades tracking spells."_

_Dean winces again, but straightens. "Okay. That's...good."_

_Cas looks at Dean as if he's stating the obvious, which Sam suspposes he is. Cas moves on to Bobby, and then Sam, carving the sigils into their ribs._

_Afterward, Sam looks over at Dean, sending his brother a silent plea. We need to talk._

_Dean gets it. "Let's go back downstairs and get the food, Sam."_

_Gratefully, Sam follows his brother back to the basement. _

_Dean folds his arms. "Alright, Sam, spill."_

_Sam clenches his jaw. "When Lucifer came, he...told me stuff."_

_"What stuff?"_

_"I'm...I'm his vessel, Dean."_

* * *

A/N 2: _Well, Dean should take that well. I'll try to update tomorrow, but if not I definitely will Sunday. Please leave a review for me? Even something small really makes me happy because it means that people are appreciating my work. Thanks for reading and have a great day!_

_-Jaq _


	19. Chapter 19

A/N:_ Hi, everybody! I'm back with the latest chapter. Almost twenty chapters so far, can you believe it? And it all stemmed from a stupid oneshot idea... Well, let's just say that everyone who reads this is fantastic. Ye? Ye. This fic hit one thousand hits in a day, which is...huge. Wow. That's a seventh of all the views on this story!_

_Huge thanks to VattaKeto, Sammysmissingshoe, mb64, ellie reynolds 777, sofipatch, Sara B, EmeraldWings90, Kas3y, LittleSilence, ncsupnatfan, Naivaraeladrin, and Jenna for reviewing last chapter! You guys are amazing. Thanks as well for all the follows and favorites! Now...onto the next chapter, where a loophole some of you discussed comes to light!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

Yeah, it's a friggin' cliché, yeah, it sounds stupid, but for Dean time really does seem to slow down, and he notices everything, every tiny detail from the way Sam's hands are clenched to how his younger brother is biting his lip and looking scared.

"DAMMIT!" Dean shouts, loud enough that the swear echoes around the tiny basement. Sam looks away, but Dean can still see the tears in his eyes and knows that Sam's about to cry.

"Hey, Sam. Hey, we'll- we'll figure this out, okay? Just like we always do." Dean finds himself reassuring his brother, just like always. But even to him, the words sound hollow. Sam isn't ten anymore, and Dean can't solve all of his problems by putting on a stupid t shirt.

"Dean..." Sam whispers, tears running down his cheeks, "I'll do it. I'll say yes. You know I will."

Dean feels hot anger surge inside him, along with what he hopes is faith in his brother's will. "No you won't," he grits out. Damn, he's about to cry now too. "You hear me? You will not!"

Sam just smiles in that awful, broken way he's picked up recently and shakes his head. The tears are unchecked now. "I killed Lilith, broke the final seal...I drank all that demon blood even though, deep down, I knew it was wrong. I'm not strong, Dean, I'm weak. You know it, and they know it too."

Dean can't stand this, can't stand to see Sam so passively discussing his flaws. Impulsively, he fires a quick right hook into Sam's jaw, just enough to knock him off balance and maybe bruise. Sam straightens quickly and rubs his jaw a little.

Then, he looks at the floor. A tear drips down onto his shoe.

"C'mom, Sam! Get- get pissed! Get angry! Fight this, don't give in! What sort of attitude is this? Come on," Dean snaps, grabbing Sam's collar and shaking. He's breathing heavily, glaring at Sam.

"Pissed? Dean," Sam laughs hollowly. "Last time I got pissed I started Armaggeddon. And you think it's a good idea to get me mad again?"

"It's a hell of a lot better than sitting and moping," Dean mutters. He turns away to the food he brought down originally (some bread, a banana, and what looks like a salad shaker) and picks it up.

"Here. You really should eat something."

Sam looks at Dean dubiously but takes the banana and peels a little, taking a small bite. Dean stands there, determined to watch until he's satisfied Sam has eaten something substantial.

"We should get Cas to ward Bobby's place or something. Lucifer might not be able to sense us, but he knows where we were a few minutes ago," Dean says after a pause. It's clear that Sam's appetite has definitely returned, and that's good news if nothing else is.

Sam nods, halfway through the salad shaker.

Suddenly the angel in question appears next to them, looking frenzied. "Dean," he says hurriedly, "we need to go. Now."

Dean avoids Cas' hand, though, and frowns. "Woah, woah, hold on. What? Why?"

Castiel looks agitated. "Not here."

Sam has paused eating and is looking between Dean and Cas.

"Did you hear us?" Dean asks, looking at Cas suspiciously.

"Of course. I can hear almost a mile away easily, down one story is no trouble at all. I did, however, allow you your privacy."

Sam's staring at- no, _scrutinizing_, Dean decides- Cas. "Did...did you know about my being the vessel?" he asks.

Cas looks between Dean and Sam. "We really need to go."

"Cas. Answer the question," Dean snaps, "or we aren't going anywhere." He's curious as to the answer, and determines that if Castiel did know, the angel is going to regret not having mentioned that little nugget of information.

Cas sighs. "I hear...well, you would call them rumors. I did not know they were confirmed until just now."

"Rumors? As in more than one?"

Obviously irritated, Cas snaps back. "Yes, Dean, more than one. I've already taken Bobby, now we need to leave."

"Where are you going?"

An angel blade immediately drops into Cas' hand, and he looks genuinely fearful. "Lucifer."

"So nice to see you, little brother. Now, how about you give me what's mine and I kill you and the Michael sword quickly?" says the man who has appeared in front of the trio.

Castiel steps protectively in front of the Winchesters, and Dean feels bad for berating him. After all, the angel did rebel for them, and was currently placing himself between Dean and the devil. In a split second, he throws his blade and grabs both Sam and Dean. In an instant, they're a thousand miles away.

Dean reels a bit from being carried like that, but he recovers quickly enough. "One more question, Cas," he asks.

Castiel is looking at his hands. At Dean's voice he turns. "Yes?"

"The hell did Lucifer mean about the Michael sword? You got a weapon you aren't telling us about?" he asks hopefully. A giant, badass-sounding sword would definitely be useful.

"He was referring to you."

Dean gives Cas a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"You're Michael's vessel."

That...was not what he was expecting. Dean doesn't get it. He tortured souls. Hell, he _liked_ torturing souls. Which broke the first seal, which led to everything else. Plus, Dean had never exactly been...well, a squeaky-clean guy. He lied for a living, swore a lot, and did whole list of things he was pretty sure violated all of the laws in Leviticus.

"What the hell. Of course. Just what we needed, more bad news. Now, where are we?"

"An alleyway in New York City."

...Okay then. Dean notices Bobby a few meters away, and walks over. "Sorry about your place." He grimaces. "It's probably ashes by now."

Bobby snorts. "Definitely. Lucky we got Cas here to drop us off in alleyways. Why NYC of all places?"

"It was...easy," Castiel says, and Dean notices that the angel is breathing a little harder than usual. Cas doesn't usually breathe harder after teleporting, right?

"Well, I'm famished. Let's go get dirty water dogs," Dean quips. "Oh wait. We don't have money, a car, or a way out of a friggin' war we never wanted to be in in the first place. Friggin' marvelous."

Sam looks down. "Sorry," he murmurs.

Dean really, _really_ wants to tell Sam it will all be okay, but he can't bring himself to that. Not now.

"I have one hundred and fifty eight dollars," Cas says suddenly, breaking the silence and pulling out some crumpled bills from inside his pocket.

Dean gapes. "That's useful."

Cas nods, and Dean remembers something. "Hey, isn't Lucifer an archangel? Shouldn't he be able to...I don't know...poof and you're gone type thing?"

Again, Castiel nods. "Fortunately for us, he is not in his true vessel, and his strength is greatly diminished."

"Lucky for us," Dean says sarcastically. "We only got an archangel with 'greatly diminished' strength trying to find us. Not sayin' anything, but you still looked pretty scared, Cas." Dean sighs. "I really am hungry, though. Come on. I don't think Castiel has ever had food from a food cart."

"I don't need to eat," Cas begins, but Dean cuts him off.

"We're running for our lives from the devil, the apocalypse itself has begun, we're on pretty much everyone's hit list, and we've only got a hundred and fifty eight dollars and a half-juiced angel. Life is short. Let's get hot dogs."

* * *

A/N 2:_ Why NYC? I'll tell you why. I used to live in NYC. It was amazing. It is my favorite place, and I love it. Other than that, I have a regretful announcement to make. I have been roped into a camping trip. With my best friend. Until Thursday. There shall be neither outlets not cell phone service, so I can't update or write chapters. So, your next update will be either Thursday or Friday. Probably Friday. _

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a review if you did; reviews make me happy. Thanks so much for reading and, as always, have a great day!_

_-Jaq_


	20. Chapter 20

A/N_: I'm sorry for not updating yesterday! After camping I had exactly zero energy...let me tell you, camping is a very interesting event if your best friend (and the only other one there, AND the one car) sneaks up on you at 3 in the morning and whispers "time to die." I'm pretty sure that's one way that very few people end up punching their friends in the face. Oh well. Enough of my real life stories. But before you get to the chapter, i'd like to thank Sharllissa, VattaKeto, Ryah Ingis, DaughterofNeptune313, Sara B, NikkieSheepie, Jenna, LittleSilence, Naivaraeladrin, mb64, Kas3y, ncsupnatfan, Sammysmissingshoe, and Leandra Falconwing for reviewing! You guys are the best. And now, onto the chapter. Watch out for plot twists. _

_-Jaq_

* * *

_Sam doesn't give a crap about the terrible-tasting hot dogs. Actually, it'd be easier if he did, because maybe then he wouldn't notice the way Dean's eyes would slide over to him and then flick away, but never catch Sam's. _

_Or the way Bobby won't completely turn his back._

_Or the way Castiel is stiff...well, stiffer, around him. _

_In short, maybe if Sam could focus on the rubbery meat he was currently gripping, he wouldn't see the way his only three friends left in the world are dissapointed in him. _

_A small part of his brain tells him to come up with a better word (because dissapointed doesn't even cover the tip of the iceburg), but Sam's too tired. He's drained of all energy, and really just wants to sink into oblivion right about now._

_Thankfully, Dean breaks the silence. "So Cas," he begins hesitantly, balling up his wrapper so it crinkles loudly. "If you knew about the vessel thing...why didn't you tell us?" He throws the wrapper, watching as it arcs perfectly and lands in a trashcan. _

_"I had...other things on my mind," Castiel says evasively. Bobby throws away his half-eaten hot dog and snorts, but Dean shoots him a look and gestures for Cas to continue._

_"I Fell for you, Dean," Castiel finally says, giving Dean a piercing look. "The angels under Zachariah's command- all of us- were told about the final seal merely seconds before it occurred. He then personally threatened myself. I disobeyed a direct order in coming to the both of your aids. In doing so, I Fell, cutting off my connection to Heaven and stopping the flow of my Grace. Your being one of the vessels was just a rumor, something that I heard from a demon. Demons lie. I figured nothing of it. Are you happy now?"_

_Sam isn't sure exactly how the whole angel falling thing works, but it sounds pretty damn awful. "Castiel...?" he begins, not even sure if the angel will converse with him. In a rush, he spits it out. "Your Grace. I mean, can that be fixed? Is there a limit? How long does it last? What happens if it runs out?"_

_Cas looks at him, an unreadable expression on his face. "When it runs out, I will die." _

_Well. "So...just don't use it. We can go steal a car, and you can conserve it for emergencies, right?"_

_Castiel looks away. _

_"Well that's just peachy," Dean snarks, which Sam knows means that Dean's actually reeling inside. _

_Sam is too, though. Another person...being, multidimensional wave of celestial intent,.whatever-the-crap...that he can eventually add to his list of kills. _

_It's a pretty long list. _

_"Alright, Cas. Well, any helpful rumors about stopping the end of the world? Because now would be a great time to spill," Dean says. _

_"You cannot stop the Apocalypse. There is only one way it can end. Michael must battle Lucifer," Cas monotones. _

_"Anything else?"_

_Cas gives Dean a look that has 'cut the crap' written all over it, and Dean raises his hands slightly. _

_"So, me and Sam, we're the vessels, right? But the angels need permission. What if we just say no?"_

_"They have ways of making you say yes."_

_"But they need my consent."_

_"You broke in Hell, Dean," Castiel says in a low voice that doesn't harbor room for argument. "You broke after barely thirty years. And all after you made a rash decision to bring your brother back. You have weaknesses, Dean! It isn't a secret."_

_At that, Dean's face hardens, but he doesn't deny Cas' words. Sam glances back at the ground- there's a grimy once-green glob of gum that's suddenly terribly interesting. Because if Dean has weaknesses, that's nothing compared to Sam. While Dean's problem is that he's afraid of being alone, of knowing that other people are hurting, Sam is just weak overall. _

_And if he's telling the truth, he and Dean are so codependant that it wouldn't take much to get them to say yes. Especially if the devil and the angels both want it. _

_A thunk next to him startles Sam out of his reverie. Dean's sitting beside him, but noticeably farther away. It's only an inch or two, but it feels like a mile-wide chasm. A chasm that can't be refilled very well. _

_Or at all, maybe. _

_"Hey Bobby, why don't you take Cas to the record store over there? Guy needs to get to know some good music. I'm gonna stay here," Dean calls over to Bobby. The actual meaning of the words is quite obvious- I need to talk to Sam, alone- but Castiel is so oblivious to the subtler meanings in things that he doesn't pick up. Bobby does, though. _

_With a sharp glance the brothers, Bobby nods. "Come on, Dean's right. Let's go."_

_Castiel frowns but follows Bobby, his trenchcoat fluttering slightly in the breeze. _

_Dean waits until Cas and Bobby are a good distance away before he clears his throat. "So, uh, Sam," he begins. "I've been thinking...I can't...I can't really trust you anymore," he says quickly, avoiding Sam's eyes. _

_Sam just nods, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He should have seen this coming. The "I don't want a brother anymore" speech that he had always been so afraid of. _

_"So I was thinking maybe...maybe we just need some time apart. I mean, we're friggin' codependent, for one thing. The bad guys know it too. And for another..." Dean looks down. "I just don't think we can do this anymore. The whole family hunting trip. Cas can go do whatever Cas does, Bobby can go somewhere, I don't know. Maybe I can go with them. But it can't be with you, Sammy."_

_Sam wants to curl up in a ball and sob. "Okay."_

_Dean just nods, and Sam offhandedly wonders if ' but it can't be with you, Sammy' are the last words he'll ever hear out of his brother. _

_So he starts walking. He has about fifty bucks from what Cas gave him (the four hot dogs coming to a grand total of twelve dollars and Castiel splitting the rest of the money between the people who needed it more), and Sam figures that it's enough. He can steal stuff if he has to. _

_Sam doesn't look back. _

* * *

A/N: _Yes, I'm evil...and before you all start shouting that they had one more case!1! let's remember that Rufus called Bobby...at Bobby's house...and that either way, I feel like Dean trusts Sam a little less in this AU already, because of the whole being shot thing. The plot is actually happening, and we are officially significantly more than halfway through this story! (Also- you can't get into my panic room. It's everything-proof. I think. Yes, I'm looking at you. You know who you are)_

_On another note: 197 reviews so far! Wow! 200th reviewer gets a one-shot of their choice :)_

_so...please review? It totally makes my day and although I didn't have time to reply to all you wonderful people before I really will make an effort to respond to everyone who reviews. Thanks for reading and, as always, have a great day!_

_-Jaq_


	21. Chapter 21

A/N:_ holy crap, I am so sorry! I updated on Saturday and it is...Tuesday...*hides in shame because this isn't even that long of a chapter*_

_ Anyways, thanks so much for the response to last chapter! I want to thank Kas3y, VattaKeto, sammysmissingshoe, Naivaraeladrin, ncsupnatfan, Sara B, Hades Lord of the Dead, mb64, Dani, Sharllissa, Jenna, and NikkieSheepie for reviewing! I'm sorry...sort of...for making some people tear up over Sam and Dean's parting. For those trying to get into my panic room...well, I'd say give up but after this chapter I don't think you'll want to..._

_-Jaq_

* * *

Dean has an inkling that it wasn't right to send Sam off like that. He knows. But it had-and still does- seem like the best thing to do. Sam was dangerous, he was untrustworthy, and Dean cares too damn much about him. If they set off on a hunt, or were captured by angels or demons, or any scenario where Sam gets hurt, Dean doesn't want the blame.

So maybe he's a selfish bastard. But he doesn't regret his actions. Not at all.

He's still sitting on the bench fifteen minutes later when Bobby and Cas return. Neither looks to be in a good mood.

Both notice Sam's absence immediately, causing Cas to stop whatever he was saying about Bob Marley. Cas' reaction is more subtle; Bobby's the one that launches into an enraged telling-off that includes a lot of cussing.

Dean just sits there and nods. "It was the right thing to do," he says finally.

"The right thing to do? Hell, boy, you two are pretty much the only thing you got left and you're telling me sending him off was 'the right thing to do?'"

"I'm trying not to get him killed!" Dean snaps, standing up. "He set off the damn apolalypse, chose a demon over me- hell, he shot me, and I'm supposed to take him back like nothing happened? Like whatever bond or whatever we had isn't a pile of crap? I'm not happy about it, but believe me, I'm not hunting with someone I can't trust my back with."

"And how does that tie into trying not to get him killed?" Bobby looks furious, but Dean doesn't give a crap. Not anymore.

"Trust goes both ways," Dean says, biting each syllable and smiling sarcastically. "I can't expect him to trust me, either."

"You are most most probably safer together," Castiel adds, nonflinching at the glares Dean and Bobby throw at him for butting in.

"Trust me. You know what I wanna do? I wanna sit back and drink my problems away, and I wanna have really good sex, I want to stop having to save the damn world, and I want a cheeseburger," Dean says angrily. "But instead I'm going to try and find a way to clean up my brother's mess. Like I always do. And I'm not complaining! But if he's going to do stuff like this, maybe it's best if he picks a hemisphere."

"Mabye you should think of someone other than yourself!"

Dean just smiles bitterly. He's a screwed-up train wreck, he knows that. He's selfish, he knows that. Sammy's more important, _he knows that._ But hell if he is going to put that boy's life in danger by being near him.

"Yeah, maybe. Sorry to dissapoint," he snarks, starting to walk away (down an avenue. Sam took a street. He's not taking one chance that he'll meet his brother). "You can all have fun by yourselves without me. Call if you find out how to kill the devil, okay?"

A lady walking her dog gives him an odd look and hurries past, but at this point Dean doesn't care at all.

A couple hours later, the $50 he had was spent on two bottles of cheap liquer and a frigging terrible hotel room. That doesn't have computers or wifi.

One part of him knows that he really, really should stick with Bobby and Cas, if only because that way they're more likely to get a semidecent something together. But another part is still pretty mad, and needs a couple days to cool off. He has his cellphone still, thank whatever cares, and he can always call them if he needs to.

Dean hasn't felt this awful in a long time. He slings himself onto a ratty-looking chair with a questionable stain and twists open the first bottle, toasting the air.

It's gonna be a long night. At midnight, Bobby calls. Dean lts it go to voicemail and picks it up afterward. Bobby tells Dean (cryptically, of course) where they're going. And there is one tiny bit of good news. Apparently, Cas popped back to Bobby's and, while the house is pretty much a grease spot now, some of the cars sustained only minor damage, including the Impala. Still, they won't be going back there. Too much of a risk.

After that, Dean turns his phone off. He can listen to any voicemail messages in the morning, or the next time he cares.

-:-

Dean wakes up with a raging hangover and a crappy attitude, the result of eating and drinking nothing save for two bottles of liquer. After puking in the bathroom, he grumpily stomps back into the room.

There stands Zachariah, a simpering smile on his face. Dean immediately draws his gun, but he really can't do anything.

"How the hell did you get here?" Dean snarls, backing up.

"Have you checked your voicemail recently, Dean?" the angel says calmly, pulling out Dean's phone from his pocket.

"What? No. How did you find me? Cas used the sigils, made it impossible..."

"Yes. But New York City? Really? We'd been tracking you, but you suddenly dropped off the map. No matter, it wasn't that hard. Poor Dean, his brother's trying to kill himself, he hasn't got a home, and everybody including himself hates him. So he gets drunk. Predictable. Now, I'd love to talk more, but I have a job. Have fun, Dean."

The angel reached out and touches Dean's forehead, and suddenly he's somewhere else.

Somewhere surrounded by chain-link fence. Dean reels a little before recovering his balance to find one word written on a half-torn down wall just before him.

_Croatoan_.

* * *

A/N 2_: *dark laughter* Alright. Let's see...three cliffhangers? 1) where are Cas and Bobby (not that big of one tbh) 2) according to Zachariah, Sam's trying to kill himself, and 3)Croatoan. So...yeah. And you aren't going to find out anything about Dean for two chapters. *more dark laughter*_

_in other news, I'm changing the rating on this to T...I just feel like I ought to. _

_Thanks to sammysmissingshoe, my 200th reviewer. Shoe has been with me from the very start of this fic and she's brilliant, so I'm posting a oneshot for her that will contain much Sam torture either later tonight or tomorrow. _

_Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please leave a review. Even the most basic reviews make me happy because that's how I know you care. :) Have a great day!_

_-Jaq_


	22. Chapter 22

A/N_: Heyyyyy everyone! I'll admit that this was a bit of a tough chapter to crank out, but I'm pleased with it. I hope you will be, too. Thanks so much to Hades Lord of the Dead, Sharllissa, mb64, Dani, Naivaraeladrin, VattaKeto, ReadReedRed, Kas3y, ellie reynolds 777, sammysmissingshoe, Sara B, Jenna, Leandra Falconwing, ncsupnatfan, and NikkieSheepie for reviewing! You guys are the best. _

_**Alright, listen up...this chapter has suicide attempts/suicidal thoughts, so if this could potentially trigger you please don't read! **_

_I hope everyone likes this chapter! Enjoy. _

_-Jaq_

* * *

But it can't be with you, Sammy_._

_Sam bites his lip, swallows the lump in his throat, and keeps walking. _

_New York really is the city of a thousand faces, he thinks. He's seen people in tailored suits, people wearing dirty, torn clothing that looks like it hasn't been washed in a while, and even a person wearing nothing (although she was painted bright pink). He's seen people of all different races, ethnicity, ages, and every other variant, all blended in together in one place that smelled like exhaust fumes and vender food. _

_It was a great place to be. After all, it's easier to feel lonely when you're surrounded by strangers. _

_Sam mulls the news over while walking down 10th Avenue. Lucifer's vessel...well, he supposed he should have seen something like this coming. _

_He walks for hours, aimlessly traversing the streets and avenues._

_Suddenly, a tiny voice in the back of his head speaks up. _

Lucifer can't use you as a vessel if you're dead, Sam,_ it says, whispering the words into his head with a smile. _

_Thia voice has spoken up before. Moreover, Sam's even considered taking it seriously before. He tried once, but Cas just brought him back. _

_No Cas this go-round. _

_Just Sam (and me. That tiny, quiet voice that you know is right. The one that makes you pull the trigger when you need to. The one that accepts that maybe you're evil, Sam.)_

_Fifty dollars isn't much money, but Sam's made do with less. And if New York City has a lot of something, it's slightly suspicious motels. _

_He picks one called "NYC Public House and Motel," or a dinky place above a dirty pub. _

_The manager is a greasy, overweight man who uses a feigned English accent and tries to make Sam pay twice the amount he needs to. Even though Sam won't have a use for the money, he only pays what he has to. _

_But last minute thinking-you're going to need a couple days- makes him use almot all of his money anyway. (You know a place is cheap and seedy when three nights go for $48.)_

_Sam thanks the manager even though the man was rude, and takes the stairs up to his room. _

_The first thing he does is put out the 'do not disturb' sign. _

_The second thing he does is realize he doesn't even have a way to do it. There isn't even a ceiling fan he can hang from. _

_A quick search of the bathroom, however, reveals a hypodermic needle (heroin, probably) and a small penknife. The penknife will do. _

_Sam pulls out his phone. It's 12:31. He calls Dean, relieved when it goes straight to voicemail._

_"Hey, Dean...this is Sam. I'm at NYC Public House and Motel, room seventy-three." Pause. Sam sighs, unsure of what to say. "Come in a day or so."_

_He hangs up. There's a pad of paper on the nightstand, and a pen. He picks it up._

Dean,

I'm sorry I screwed everything up. But this is me trying to do one last thing for good, okay? Lucifer can't possess me if I'm dead. I know this will just be a burden to you. I'm sorry. Please cremate my body, if you can. A Hunter's funeral, even though I don't deserve one.

You were the best big brother I could have hoped for. I'm sorry it had to end like this. Please don't blame yourself. And tell Bobby and Cas that I'm sorry. Bye, Dean.

-Sam

_He finishes writing 'Sam' in his loopy, uphill scrawl, then tears off the note and places it on the bed. Then, he walks into the bathroom. _

_Sam looks at the penknife, picks it up in his right hand, and takes a deep breath._

_Two slashes, upward from his left wrist, down his forearm to his elbow. They hurt, but Sam's numb to the pain as he trades hands._

_He only has the strength to make one cut on his right wrist-there's too much nerve and tendon damage. _

_Blood is pouring out, _gushing_ out, and Sam begins to feel a little lightheaded. He sits in the shower, watching in a cold, removed way as his life ebbs away. _

_It's all been because of blood, he thinks detatchedly. Bloodlines, Azazel's blood, Mary's blood on the ceiling, Jess' blood dripping on his face, Dean shedding blood and breaking the first seal, Ruby's blood, Lilith's blood starting the apocalypse, back to Sam's blood._

_Hopefully now it will all be over. Hopefully Sam's blood will be the last. _

_It's been two minutes. It takes four to die._

_Sam thinks. In the back of his head, ever since he was a kid, he'd always had that morbid thought that he would die bloody. _

_He'd wanted to get out of it all, of course, but that couldn't happen. His destiny or some crap which, to somebody up there, was more important than Jess' life. _

_Well, it was ending now. Black spots swam in his vision, and he could barely think coherently. _

_It will be over soon, he thinks. Over for everyone. _

_The world goes black. _

_And then it's bright. Too bright, and Sam's confused, becaude he thought Hell would be dark and red (because after all, where else would he go?)._

_It dims, and Sam's standing...somewhere. He doesn't know where, but it's still, as if everything is paused. _

_A man steps out of a shadow (Sam doesn't know what the shadow is from, but he supposes it's there) and walks towards Sam, shaking his head. As he draws nearer, Sam realizes who it is. Lucifer. _

_"You can't die, Sammy," he said. "I won't let you. Even if I can't find you, I won't let you die. I need you, after all, whole and strong. Be ready, Sam."_

_Then, Sam wakes up in the shower, covered in blood. A quick glance to his wrists, however, shows that they are completely healed. _

_So, he has to find a more permanent way. That's ok. _

_He still has tomorrow. _

* * *

A/N 2: _ So, you can probably tell through my writing that I really love NYC...I wish I still lived there..._

_Alright, that was a pretty heavy chapter. But, if you liked it, leave a review! I love hearing from everyone, even if it's only a sentence or two. Yada yaya yada, you've heard the spiel already. Reviews are awesome. Thanks for reading, and have a great day!_

_also. For the people convinced they can get into my panic room. I'm waiting. You still haven't managed to get in. Anybody out there willing to join them, don't think your luck will be any better. _

_-Jaq_


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: _Hello, hello, all of you wonderful people! I'm back with the next installment, and it's a long one (2000+ words, yippee). In fact, it was going to be even longer, but I cut it off because I wanted to be able to update today. So, you'll be getting half of the AU version of The End today. I should mention- this is largely canon-compliant. Yeah, I did change some stuff, but it isn't that different. I hope you don't mind...but it had to be this way. The next Dean chapter will be where we diverge into more of an AU version of this episode._

_Thanks so much to Sharllissa, VattaKeto, Leandra Falconwing, sammysmissingshoe, Hades Lord of the Dead, sofipatch, Jenna, mb64, ellie reynolds 777, Naivaraeladrin, ncsupnatfan, Kas3y, NikkieSheepie, and Sara B for reviewing! I really love it when people review because it's like 'holy crap a whole other person somewhere is reading and cares about what I'm writing,' and it's terribly exciting._

_To conclude the longest author's note yet of this story, I have one small note. Although the August 1st sign was in the episode, it has to have been placed there at a previous time. Therefore, the date is not necessarily August 1st, but sometime after that. Thanks! Enjoy :)_

_-Jaq_

* * *

_Croatoan_.

Dean's eyes widen, and he stumbles backward. What kind of hellhole did Zachariah send him off into, anyway? He remembers the Croatoan virus (how could he _forget_), but he doesn't remember this.

As a little girl starts walking towards him with a glint of malice in her eye, Dean realizes that now is not the time. He begins to walk away, glancing back every so often. When more and more join her, Dean flat out sprints, ignoring his pounding headache, towards the chain-link fence.

Heavy gunfire startles him, and he flings himself into the ground as- as a friggin' _tank_ rounds the corner and opens fire. People in military uniforms are shooting as well, and several of the infected (Dean presumes) people fall.

As the rest scatter and the tank leaves, Dean peeks out of his hiding place- a pile of rubbish- and spots a sign that reads:

**CROATOAN VIRUS HOT ZONE**

**NO ENTRY BY ORDER OF ACTING REGIONAL COMMAND**

**AUGUST 1st, 2014**

**KANSAS CITY**

He reads the date aloud in shock. So, this is the future. He swallows hard, remembering what Zachariah had said. If the angel was to be believed, Sam was in trouble. Or, he was, five years ago. Dean shakes his head. He doesn't even know where to start, how to find anything.

There are some old, rusted cars lying around, but nothing that looks like it has the ability to run. He scales the fence, grimacing as the barbed wire cuts, and jumps down. A quick check reveals that his stitches are still intact.

There aren't any working or salvageable cars on this side, either.

So, Dean has two options: he can go chase after the artillery guys (and most likely get shot) or he can try and find a way on foot (and most likely get infected). Neither option seems very appealing, so he tries one last thing.

"Zach..." he snarls, anger building in his throat, "you sure as hell better explain all this. Now."

Dean turns around to the sight of the angel smiling poisonously. "You could have asked nicer."

"What. The. Hell."

Zachariah sighs dramatically. "You're in 2014. Late August, I think. Although..." his eyes scan the cars. "I suppose you need a ride." With an irritable look, the angel snaps his fingers.

Suddenly, he's standing just outside yet another fence. There's a sign that reads 'Camp Chiquata,' and men with guns patrolling.

Dean doesn't bother looking around for Zachariah, or any other help. Instead, he darts over to a tree, staying out of sight.

By the tree, he catches a glimpse of a familiar car. Sighing with relief, he sneaks up only to be met with a rusted, smashed up version of the Imapala. Dean reels. How could he _ever_ let that happen to his baby?

The hard, angry fist inside him curls up a little more. He doesn't realize that he isn't alone, however, until it's too late. A fist comes crashing into his jaw, and blackness rushes up to greet him.

-:-

Dean wakes up with one hand cuffed to a ladder and the other stinging a little from a small, neat cut on the palm.

He looks up to see himself.

Well, a version of himself. This Dean has longer scruff and deeper bags under his eyes, and is leaner.

"What the hell?" Dean finally asks.

"I should be asking you that," the other Dean says. "You aren't any kind of supernatural creature, so how do you explain the resemblance? Give me one reason not to shoot you on the spot."

Dean sits up a little straighter, if only to relieve the pressure on his arm. "Because..." he tries for a smile, "you'd only be hurting yourself?"

"Cut the crap," other-Dean snaps, leaning closer to Dean. "You've got ten seconds." He picks up the gun lying by his feet casually. "I've got to hand it to you- you had every lockpick, boxcutter, even the paperclip in your shoe- that I carry. What are you, and how'd you do it?"

"Zachariah," Dean says in a monotone. "Sonovabitch wants to teach me some kind of lesson. I'm you-me? from 2009."

"Well, tell him to piss off and send you back. Or better yet, tell me something only I would know."

Dean tells him some random hookup story, and other-Dean seems appeased. He does not, however, make any move to remove the handcuffs.

"So," Dean says, clearing his throat roughly to break the silence. "Where is everyone?"

Other-Dean looks at him flatly. "Dead."

"Cas?"

"Lucifer himself iced the poor bastard," other-Dean says (too flippantly, Dean thinks. Cas is...was? their friend. Not someone to just be mentioned in passing as being dead.

He looks at the ground and pauses. "...Bobby?"

"Shot."

Dean closes his eyes, but he has one more person that he has to check up on. "Sam?" he asks, afraid of the answer.

At this, other-Dean's face finally crumbles slightly. "I got a voicemail about five years ago," he says gruffly, looking away. "Said to come to some crappy hotel in New York. I did. There was blood everywhere. Sam didn't make it. Kid just couldn't play to eleven."

Dean's face pales. "I'm in...I was in New York City right now," he says quietly. Zachariah mentioned a voicemail. Dean isn't stupid. He slumps, closing his eyes.

"Why the hell am I here, then?" Dean shouts to nobody in particular.

Other-Dean looks at Dean with pity and sympathy through eyes that have almost no light left in them. "I don't know," he says, "but if you ever get back, try and do something right."

-:-

As soon as other-Dean leaves (with instructions not to try and escape no matter what), Dean finds a nail in the floorboards. It's already bent, and although it will be a tight fit, he thinks he can fit it into the handcuff lock.

He's right. After barely two minutes of turning the simple, two tumbler lock, it springs free, and Dean stands up.

Walking out the door, he's met without interruption as he wanders about the sparse camp.

He hears raised voices, one of which sounds like his own, and he steps near a small hut, listening through a broken window.

"-how can we be sure?" a woman's voice is saying heatedly.

"Trust me, Risa," other-Dean says. "I made sure."

Dean shivers at other-Dean's tone. He knows from the deadness, the lack of emotion in that sentence, what happened. Torture.

There's a pause, and then, "fine," the woman- Risa?- says shortly.

"Good. We've got Frank, Jenna, Amir, you, Chuck, and Luke, right?" other-Dean questions.

"And you're positive Yeager didn't infect anyone? If he was even infected, I didn't see a wound..."

"It doesn't matter now. I shot him myself as soon as he got off the truck. We're good."

Dean listens with growing horror. What were they doing? And whom had other-Dean shot? And why was he in this crapfest anyways?

Suddenly, there's the sound of a chair scraping, and the sound of a gun being cocked. "Stand up slowly, turn around, and raise your hands," comes a familiar voice. It's Chuck, but more...tough. Like he's seen too much.

Dean complies, drawing a gasp when the prophet see's Dean's face. "Dean!" he calls, voice wavering but then solidifying. "Come here, you're gonna want to see this."

Other-Dean joins Chuck by the window, shooting Dean a glare. "Dammit," he whispers under his breath. "I'll explain. You, get in here."

Dean does, entering through the door. Sitting around a table are an assortment of people, all carrying guns.

"He's me," other-Dean explains, "but from 2009. Zachariah sent him up here to see what it's like." The tone of his voice and the look on his face harbor no room for questions.

Chuck looks slightly embarrassed at having just threatened his leader's past self. "Dean," he rambles quickly, "if you really are Dean from 2009. Hoard toilet paper, you understand? Hoard it. Like it's made of gold, because it is-"

"That's enough, Chuck," a tan-skinned man says. "Don't even talk about the stuff, it makes me nostalgic."

Chuck shuts up.

"Can you give us a second?" other-Dean asks apologetically to the group. Not waiting for a response, he pulls Dean outside.

"I told you not to leave," other-Dean hisses quietly, glaring at Dean.

"So we're torturing again," Dean says right off the bat, ignoring the accusation. "And it looks like we killed a man in cold blood on a suspicion he might be infected." Glaring right back, Dean looks into his own face- the sam, but more lined. "What happened to break you?"

Other-Dean stares Dean straight in the eyes. "I said Sam didn't make it. Not that he was dead. Sam said yes."

At first, it doesn't hit Dean. But when it does, it's like a sledgehammer. "Yes...like..."

"The big yes. Lucifer's wearing him to the prom," other-Dean says flatly. "We've finally found the Colt and now we're going to kill him."

"It'll kill Sam, too."

"Only if he isn't already dead, which I doubt. And even if he's alive, he'd want this," other-Dean says, using that same no-arguments tone.

Dean swallows. "Guess things really went to hell, eh?" He smiles, but there isn't any humor in it. Other-Dean just looks off into the distance, wearing scars that haven't been cut yet.

"We leave at midnight," was his only response. Other-Dean turned and walked back into the building then, prompting Dean to hurry after.

-:-

Back inside, Risa was idly scraping the table's chipped paint off with a knife. Upon seeing the Deans, she raised her eyebrows. "And Marty McFly is back," she says sarcastically, sitting up.

Dean and other-Dean sit at the table.

"So, everyone good with the plan? We leave in half an hour if anyone needs to pee or grab a weapon."

Everyone at the table nods grimly, and other-Dean stands up. He picks up a bottle of Jack Daniels from the middle of the table. "It's my last bottle," he remarks. Holding it up to the group, he smiles bitterly. "Here's to killing the devil."

Everyone drinks, and Dean can't help but wonder if this is the end.

* * *

A/N 2: If you got the Spinal Tap reference in there, you get cookies and a gold star. So...apologies for the lack of action and large canon compliance, but like I said, it was necessary. We've got one chapter of Sam, and then back to Dean's POV (but AU!). Also...we're nearing the end of this story. I'm guessing it will be about thirty chapters long, give or take a couple. I have it all planned out. And...well, somebody dies at the end. I'm not saying who, but it's gonna happen :)

Thanks so much for reading! Onto the chapterly begging: review, please? Like I said at the top, it's just super cool to hear from other people who come across this and end up liking it (or if you've been stalking this from afar, come out, come out, don't be afraid). Huge props to the awesome people that review every chapter, you know who you are :)

My panic room is locked. You cannot get in. *swallows nervously*

Have a great day!

-Jaq


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: things are heating up! The response to last chapter was great; I'm so glad that you all were okay with the slight canon compliance. thanks so much to Leandra Falconwing, VattaKeto, Jenna, ncsupnatfan, Hades Lord of the Dead, Kas3y, Sharllissa, mb64, LittleSilence, Naivaraeladrin, sammysmissingshoe, Sara B, and NikkieSheepie for reviewing! You are all fantastic. Now, school starts for me tomorrow, so...that sucks...and updates will probably be a little less frequent and a little more erratic until I get all that sorted out. So, onto the part you're interested in!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

_The ceiling blurs lazily in and out of focus. It's white, with black specks. There's a streak of red, too._

_That's Sam's. Attempt number three, he thinks._

_He's accepted the inevitable, however. He just isn't going to die like this. He needs something more permanent, maybe, something that will put him in more pieces._

_Unfortunately, he only has a penknife and two dollars._

_That isn't going to stop him._

_Sam washes most of the blood off in the shower, and then exits the room, making sure of the 'do not disturb' sign. He walks down the stairs and exits the motel, not looking at anyone._

_Once outside, Sam exhales deeply. It's New York. There's got to be some jerk with a gun, right?_

_He traverses through back alleys, down in the dirtier, smellier parts of the city. Twice, he sees people in the shadows, but they're just drug dealers and likely don't have the kind of gun Sam has in mind, if any. Besides, he doesn't want to go near them. (Maybe a little part of him wants to drag this out. Maybe.)_

_"Hey, dickhead," comes a low, gravelly voice from behind him. Sam whirls, muscles tensing on instinct._

_The speaker is a short, slightly pudgy man with pasty skin and beady eyes. He smiles, revealing crooked teeth. "That blood on yer jacket?"_

_Sam straightens to his full height. "It might be," he answers. "Get lost before I decide that you're next."_

_The man, however, is undaunted, and laughs a wheezing laugh that crinkles his face, which is in need of a shave. Slowy, he pulls open his own jacket to reveal a handgun, a silencer fixed onto it._

_"See," he says conspiratorily, "I don't think you got one of these, or you'd've pulled it already. What you got, a Swiss Army Knife?"_

_Sam pulls out the penknife and switches open the blade. "I'll trade you," he says evenly._

_"No, you won't. You'll give me any money that you got, and then you're gonna go to the ATM and get some more. Understand?"_

_Sam doesn't have time for this. Dropping the penknife, he feigns to the right before jabbing stiff fingers into the man's solar plexus. Then, taking advantage of the height difference and the man's instinctive tightening and immobility of muscles, he yanks the gun away from the man, over his head. Really, it's too easy._

_Of course it's too easy, though. He should see it coming. But he doesn't, and the pipe hits his temple with a resounding thud. Sam's out before he hits the ground._

_-:-_

_Sam wakes later, tied to a chair. Ugly no. 1 appears, leering._

_"Not so tough are ya now, eh?"_

_Sam begins to struggle, but an idea pops into his head. Leaning forward, he smiles in a way that he hopes is creepy. "Shoot me in the head," he growls, the words raspy and hungry. "Or else give me your gun so I can do it myself."_

_Ugly no. 2 walks around the chair and laughs. He must be the guy that caused the painful lump on the side of Sam's head, the young man decides._

_"Straight to the point, I like him. Alright, I can do that. Russ?"_

_Ugly no. 1 smiles. "With pleasure. You, never try and get fancy with us, y'hear? We would have let you go with a couple thousand bucks, you know. You brought this upon yourself."_

_The words rang true, so similar to what Cas- or was it Dean? Bobby? Sam doesn't know, and he doesn't care- had said._

_Sam deserves to die._

_"First, yer going to give us anything you got, understand?" He pulls out a piece of paper. "Gimme your credit card number and name, and don't bother lying."_

_Sam laughs, the sound bursting out and sounding very insane. "I can't believe this." He smiles bitterly. "I'm broke. Why do you think I asked you to kill me?"_

_The first man shrugs. "Fine, have it your way. We wore gloves, the gun's black market anyway, go ahead. I don't like you, anyway. Al, go ahead."_

_There's a soft click as the gun is cocked, and then Al pushes the gun under Sam's jaw. He hesitates. Then, tensing, he pulls the trigger._

_-:-_

_Ten minutes later, Sam wakes up again. He's buried in a pile of garbage, facedown. Pulling himself out, he leans against the building, sliding down until he's sitting._

_So he can't die. What are his other options?_

_It doesn't look like there are any, not really. After all, if he's just going to be brought back again and again, what's the point?_

_He trudges back to the motel, takes a shower, and throws himself onto the bed. It's lumpy, with a couple broken springs, but it'll suffice._

_Sam's eyelids flutter open to another form on the bed next to him. He gasps, blindly reaching for the light. If it's who he thinks it is..._

_"Jessica?" Sam asks, curious and slightly wary. "I'm dreaming, aren't I."_

_Jess sits up and nods. "Yes, Sam. But that's okay, right?"_

_Sam wants to say yes. More than anything. But he doesn't usually have lucid dreams, and when he does, it usually isn't good. His face hardens, and he turns away. "Who are you?"_

_Soft clapping. "Very good, Sam. Smart."_

_Sam whirls back around. When he sees the speaker, he clenches his jaw. "Lucifer."_

_"Spot-on. Now, Sam...you know, I won't let you die. So you can stop that. I don't want to hurt you, Sam..."_

_"Get the hell out of my head."_

_"I don't suppose you'd tell me where you are?"_

_Sam's fists clench, and he wills himself to wake up. Seconds later, he's sitting on the bed, panting._

_Everything is wrong. He checks the time. It's a little after four in the morning. Sam stands up. A tiny part almost wants to say yes. It'd be easier. No more thinking for himself. Just...getting it over with. It's bound to happen eventually. One day, Sam will wake up and just not be strong enough anymore._

_No. That will never happen. He looks over at the note he left Dean, and another thought crosses his mind. There were ways of dying that even Lucifer couldn't bring back, right? The Colt. It didn't just kill you, it obliterated the soul. He remembers reading up on its lore._

_That was why it could kill demons, and angels too. It didn't stop your body from working. It actually destroyed your soul, ruined you from the inside out. Shoot a bullet from that gun into a place that would stop your body, and it stopped your soul as well. Simple._

_But Bella had the Colt. Or, she had. According to her, she had given it to Lilith. But Lilith was dead (newly, Sam thought, and a fresh wave of guilt crashed down). So, someone else has it now. Probably some high-ranking demon._

_Sam rubs his eyes. Well, no time like the present._

* * *

A/N 2:_ Heh...Sam'll have a hard time finding the Colt, since he doesn't know Crowley has it, but...will he succeed? You'll have to wait and see. I really hope you enjoyed that chapter! If you did...please review? It would absolutely make my day. Thanks so much for taking the time to read this! Have a great day. _

_-Jaq_

_P.S. When I finish this story, I think I'll take a break from doing a multi chapter fic ad will instead focus mostly on one shots, because that way I don't have to worry about an erratic updating schedule. This said, prompts are my pizza, so if you have an idea but don't want to write it yourself, PM me! Or, if you don't have an account, you can leave it in a review. Either way, I'd love it if you'd send me some stuff to work with. Thanks!_


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: _Hey, hey, hey, Jaq is back in action...after her first day of school, which sucked...anyways, yeah. I'm gonna be really bad at responding to reviews unless you have a question now, because my trig teacher likes to give a lot of homework. Ugh. That said, thanks to VattaKeto, Naivaraeladrin, Sharllissa, LeeMarieJack, Leandra Falconwing, mb64, ncsupnatfan, Kas3y, LittleSilence, sammysmissingshoe, Jenna, and Sara B for reviewing. I love you all. So much. And...onward! As we draw nearer to the climax, please note the excitement level. So...yeah. Enjoy! This is the part where it stops being canon compliant. Also, I fleshed out Risa's character a bit, because I didn't want the only characters to be Dean and Dean. So she's a bit more rounded. I hope you like what I've done. _

_-Jaq_

* * *

Dean walks quickly, slightly behind other-Dean. He isn't sure what exactly to do, but he's pretty sure it includes following himself from the future. Dean is afraid, too, because he doesn't know if he can bear seeing Sam. Well, Lucifer. But Sam. How could his brother do it? How could Sam say yes, no matter what?

Dean had to believe that when he got back to 2009 he could fix that. Sam wasn't going to say yes. Not if Dean could do anything about it.

They were a ways ahead of the rest of the group when other-Dean turns and looks Dean in the eyes. "Don't do anything," he says. "No matter what. You just watch. because you need to see this."

"How are we gonna get in?" Dean asks, avoiding answering the question.

Other-Dean stares at a point a little next to Dean's head. "We aren't going in this way. They are. Follow me."

Dean stares incredulously at his future self. "So what you're saying is, they're bait."

"Yeah."

"And they're okay with this?"

"Risa'll lead them. They signed up to help ice the devil. And that's what I'm gonna do. War has casualties."

Dean's jaw tightens. "Well, you used to care. Care that your frigging /friends/ are going on a suicide mission to help you! What the hell happened, man? If this is what I'm gonna become, then I don't want to keep going."

Other-Dean sends a sharp glare. "Then don't. You know what you do? You scream 'yes' to Michael until your frigging lungs give out. This isn't a race to an end. It's a goddamned arms race, and right now, we've got the only weapon that might be able to end it. But you can change that. Go back, say 'yes,' and let the Apocalypse play out the way it's supposed to."

"That'll destroy half the planet!"

"Well half is better than none. And that's what we have now. Hold up, we're almost there, let's wait for them."

He waits for the rest of the group. "Risa, Amir? You lead the group around the back. I'm going in the front."

Risa snorts. "That's not going to work."

"I wasn't posing a question. Trust me, it's our best shot."

Risa nods. "Alright. Jenna, Chuck, come with me. Amir, you take Luke and Frank. We'll go in, and if we need to split, my team goes left. Don't hesitate. Kill anything you see. And no matter what, do not back down. Understand?" She turns to Dean and gives him a look that clearly shows that she knows she's bait. "And Dean, you better kill that sonofabitch. I did not leave the goddamned Navy and join your camp for you to lose. Understand?"

Other-Dean nods seriously. "I will."

Risa and her group leaves, and other-Dean looks at the ground. He pulls the gun out of his jacket. "Took us five years to find it. But we did." He looks at Risa's retreating form. "Alright. Let's go."

Following other-Dean through the building, Dean suddenly grabs the jacket of his future counterpart, pulling him down.

"Look, if we kill Lucifer, the croats are still out there," he says. "Unless you think the whole thing is gonna go down Star Wars style, we kill the leader and the rest die, which I think is unlikely, maybe we should be a little more subtle."

"So what are you saying?"

"Look," Dean says. "I'm being protected. The angels still want me to say yes. Zach is gonna be making sure nothing happens to me, right?"

Other-Dean nods slightly.

"Give me the gun. You go help Risa and the rest of them."

"No way. I've waited five years for this, you better believe I'm doing it myself."

Dean swallows, looks away, and then snaps up, swinging a fist at his future self. Other-Dean immediately rolls into a crouch, standing a couple feet away. "You can try and get the gun, but I'm you. I know all of our fighting moves, all of our tricks, all of our manuevers. And I've had five years more experience."

"Yeah, well, I've got nothing to lose. Give me the gun or I will forcibly take it. Ten bucks says I can run faster than old-man me."

Other-Dean narrows his eyes, scanning Dean's body. "You've still got a healing gunshot."

"I don't give a crap. Give me the damn gun."

"You can't do it. You can't kill him."

"You think I can't?" Dean gave a short, breathy laugh. "Guess again. Give me the gun. Go help Risa. Please."

"Fine." Other-Dean pulls the gun out of his jacket. "Don't even think. Just shoot. Just the way Dad taught us."

Dean nods solemnly.

Other-Dean turns away, pulling out his normal gun, and Dean walks further inwards.

He spots him from a hundred yards away. It's hard to miss the tall man in white surrounded by bushes.

Dean swallows and walks forward.

"Give me my brother back before I shoot you in the face," he growls, not really hoping but still...hoping. Just a little bit.

"Dean. I thought I might see you."

"Sam. Now."

Lucifer laughs softly. "No, Dean. What are you going to do?"

Dean tenses, pulling the gun up. He closes his eyes as the shot fires, and a second later he hears a thud. When he opens his eyes, they're moist. Because no matter what was inside him, the body lying there is Sam's. And now he's dead. He places the Colt back in his jacket.

The body sits up and brushes off his suit, frowning at the mud. "What is that? The Colt? Sorry to disappoint, but it can't kill me." He smiles. "Every rose has its thorns, you know."

Dean blinks angrily. "And every cowboy sings a sad song, I know. I don't give a damn. Give. Me. My. Brother."

Suddenly, Lucifer frowns, leaning closer to Dean. "You're Dean..." he muses, sounding perplexed, "but you aren't from this time." He straightens. "When?"

"2009," Dean grits out, eyes flashing.

"2009. Well, tell Sammy that I win. Tell them all that I win. Okay?"

Dean wants to punch the man, but all he see's is Sam's face. And he can't do it. He can't believe he even shot him.

"Sam..."

"Sammy's in here. He's begging for me to let him out, you know. But I don't think that's gonna happen." The devil begins walking away. "Have fun in 2009, Dean."

Dean doesn't bother following him. If this is what he avoids by saying yes...he closes his eyes. Maybe it's the right choice.

He turns, going back the direction that other-Dean went.

-:-

Five minutes later, he arrives to find other-Dean, Risa, and a blonde man that Dean remembers seeing but doesn't remember his name all back to back, shooting at the relentless stream of infected people that stream out from all sides.

"Dean!" Risa yells. "It's McFly!"

Other-Dean glances over at Dean for the merest second before returning his gaze to the doorway he's defending. "Well?"

Dean glances down, the battle being waged around him almost surreal. "Turns out that the Colt can't kill everything. He got away."

The blonde man screams as a croat scratches him, slapping a bloody palm across the cut. Risa's eyes harden and she shoots him in the head.

"Hey, 2009-Dean," she says, ducking under other-Dean's gunfire to load her own gun.

"Yeah?"

"Get the hell out of here. There's nothing left here. Get back to your own time."

Dean nods, stepping backwards. He hears a flutter, and he's back in his motel room.

Immediately, Dean swivels, grabbing the gun out of his jacket and pointing it at Zachariah.

"Take me to my brother."

"What have you got there, Dean? A gun? Surely you know that a gun can't kill me."

Dean smiles wanly. "It couldn't kill Lucifer, but I'd sure as hell bet it could kill you. Now. Take me to Sam."

"I don't know where he is."

"Bullshit." Dean cocks the gun.

Zachariah raises his hands and steps back. "Put the gun down, Dean."

Dean fires the gun, but in that instant Zachariah blinks away.

"DAMMIT!" Dean yells, kicking the trashcan.

He pulls out his phone and turns it on. He's got a message. Well, better late than never. Dean just has to hope he isn't too late.

* * *

A/N: _Just a warning, I had this chapter written ahead of time. So updates can be...sketchy. I'll try and update as fast as I can. Promise. But...don't expect something every day. (unless it's a random lil oneshot or drabble. You can expect those pretty much every day (: )_

_Please review? As I am starting school and have less and less time to write, reviews are my motivators...plus I love hearing from you. Thanks for reading and, like usual, have a great day. I really do love everyone who reads this, you guys make my day *hug* _

_-Jaq (who's a bit stressed because WHO ASSIGNS FIVE PAGES OF HOMEWORK, AN ESSAY, AND AN OUTLINE tHE FIRST DAY? That's right. My math, lit, and world history teachers. Go figure. Sorry for the awkward mini rant.)_


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: I_'m sorry for the delay in posting this! I promise I have it all planned out, but school is...school. I want to thank everyone for their incredible comments about school and work. I guess a lot of you who are reading this are finished with high school, and it's nice to hear from people who've finished with it. So, thanks!_

_Thanks also to VattaKeto, Naivaraeladrin, Sharllissa, NikkieSheepie, Sara B, Jenna, ncsupnatfan, Leandra Falconwing, and LittleSilence for reviewing!_

_alright, onto the part that everyone cares about...enjoy!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

Fully aware of the soaking-wet state of his attire, Sam walks into the New York Public Library. It's probably the biggest library he's ever seen, with thousands of books on hundreds of shelves.

More importantly, it has computers.

Sam logs into a computer on the end, his back to the wall. He clicks open Google, and begins to search.

Adopting a type of 'what the hell?' attitude, he types the first thing that pops into mind into the search bar. _After Bela gets the Colt, who the hell does she give it to?_" he types, stabbing the keys fiercely.

The first website that pops up is a fansite for the Supernatural books. Immediately, Sam exits out of the window. He's had enough experience with those to last a few lifetimes or so.

Instead, Sam searches for lore about Lilith- whom she trusted, those closest to her- anyone who could be in possession of the gun.

One name keeps popping up. Crowley. According to one site, 'the Demon referred to as Crowley, or the king of the crossroads, is second in command only to Lilith, the First Demon. Crowley is and was Lilith's conspirator and possible lover (see annotation 34).'

Well. That's something. At first, Sam dismisses the sketchy-looking site, but after looking closely, he discovers a small set of sigils in one corner. Specifically, sigils meaning "hi guys, I'm a hunter, this is my website," and sigils warding and shielding the site from evil. It's a clever way to do it, Sam has to admit.

So. Crowley.

If Bobby's place hadn't been burned down, Sam would have looked there. Surely, there was something on this Crowley. But since it's now a grease spot, he has to rely on...less conventional methods.

After nearly three hours scouring the web, Sam's confident he has the information he needs. Now, to find a demon.

-:-

Sam would feel bad about stealing the spraypaint. Except he really doesn't. So he takes the pages he printed out and goes back to the motel. There's a fairly simple summoning spell that he's found. It requires quite a lot of human blood, but Sam could laugh at that. He can't bleed out.

He paints a devil's trap in yellow spraypaint around the room. Vaguely, he looks at all the blood and satanic-looking symbols and wonders what room service would think.

Well. It wouldn't matter in a day or so, anyway.

Sam slices open a vein just below his elbow, hissing sharply at the pain. The summoning can only work if blood is spilling, so he speaks the incantation fast.

In just under two minutes, Sam's feeling lightheaded, but everything's set. There's a demon tied to the only piece of furniture-the bed- and the penknife is in Sam's hand.

"Tell me about Crowley."

The demon laughs, throwing its head back. "Why would I do that?"

"Because," Sam snarls, "all I need for a summoning is a lot of blood, some sigils, and the proper incantation. All of which I've got. So you're dispensable. Exorciamos te.."

Swallowing, the demon looks visibly uncomfortable as Sam continues the exorcism. "Crowley's the king," it gasps suddenly. Sam pauses.

"Go on."

The demon shakes its head. "He's worse than you are."

Sam sticks the knife into the demon's thigh, eliciting a scream. "Don't worry. Sound warding was the first thing I put up. Like the knife? It's dipped in holy water." Learned that trick from Dean, Sam thinks.

He wonders if Dean will be relieved when Sam's dead. Probably.

But first, Sam has to find Crowley.

His eyes are drawn to the blood seeping out of the wound he's inflicted, and he forces himself to look away. The demon notices.

"You set him free, didn't you Sammy?" the demon says, its lip curling into a smile. "You want more juice? I've got a lot, Sammy, a lot..."

"Shut up," Sam growls. He looks up and begins reading, ignoring the demon's cries to stop. As he nears the end of the exorcism, the demon finally snaps.

"Wait!"

"I'm waiting."

Breathless, the demon gasps for air. "Crowley...he's got a mansion. In upstate New York. That's all I know, I swear."

Sam finishes the exorcism, ignoring the screams and pleas of the demon to the contrary.

-:-

Upstate New York? That's not far away. Well, it could theoretically be several hours, but it's the same state.

In other words, he can be back here and dead by the end of the day.

After driving for a couple hours into the mountains, Sam is almost wishing for Dean and his crappy music to fill up the empty space. That way, he doesn't have to think about everything.

He nearly crashes the car when a man in a black suit appears next to him in the car.

Sam slams on the brakes, yanking out the penknife and holding it threateningly. "Who the hell are you?" he snarls.

"Oh, please. Enough with the melodramatic toothpick," the man replies in an English accent, rolling his eyes. Obliging, Sam lowers the knife. After all, it won't do much damage, and he himself is practically invincible.

"You still haven't told me who the hell you are," he says though, shooting the hitchhiker a glare..

"Hello? The name Crowley ringing any bells? Word got out you were looking for me, so I decided to pay a visit."

"You're...Crowley?" Sam repeats, silently thinking that the middle-aged man in a suit doesn't exactly scream 'high-class demon."

The man looks at Sam as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. "They told me you were smart."

"Why did you pop up in my car?" Sam asks suspiciously, ignoring the jibe.

"Well, first, it isn't your car, is it? So it isn't warded. And secondly, I'd like to hear what you have to say. I have an...offer I'd like to make."

Sam swallows hard. "What offer?"

"I've got a gun that can kill Lucifer. And I'd like you to kill him for me."

"So you do have the Colt?" Sam asks, starting the car back up and driving down the road. He isn't sure where, exactly, he's going, but he feels like he should be driving.

"Yes, I've got the Colt. Now, here's the proposition. I give you the Colt, you and your brother leave me alone. Let me go about my business without you two badgering morons interfering," the man explains, shifting in the seat.

Silently, Sam knows exactly what he'll do with the gun. But he just nods.

"Good. Your address? I'll pop it over there. I'm not an idiot- you aren't holding the gun and the bullets while I'm in the room."

Sam rattles off the motel address and room number.

"Thanks, Moose. Alright, I'll be going now. Don't miss."

As Crowley disappears, Sam frowns. Didn't demons- especially demons close to Lilith and by extension Lucifer himself- generally not want the devil dead? Sam chooses not to question it. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, and all that.

-:-

Annoyed at having to drive all the way back, Sam stomps into the motel and up to his room. The first thing he notices is that the devil's trap has been etched away a little.

The second thing he notices is the gun sitting on his bed.

* * *

A/N 2:_ Thanks so much for reading! Only about two or three chapters left...you guys have been the best readers ever, so thanks. Please review? It makes me feel better...Thanks for reading! Have a good day. _

_-Jaq_


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: _Hello again! So, this is the second to last chapter. And, as promised, somebody dies. You should know that I've had this planned out from the beginning, and I've teased a couple people about it...but...yeah. _

_Thanks so much to NikkieSheepie, VattaKeto, Naivaraeladrin, Kas3y, Sharllissa, ncsupnatfan, sammysmissingshoe, Jenna, Sara B, and Leandra Falconwing for reviewing. You guys rock. _

_Alright. Enjoy!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

"Dammit, dammit, shit, Sammy, oh my God, Sam-"

Dean mutters incoherently as he listens to the voicemail for the second time. Not this. Please, not this. He can't be too late, it just_ isn't possible. .._

There's an address. Dean tracks it down in record time, and he'll be damned if it isn't clear across the city.

Well, he's in good shape. Handy when running from monsters (or to your suicidal younger brother who thinks that you don't even care) and just damn it damn it all because Dean_ is not going to be too late this time_.

In high school, his best mile time was 5:02. So he can run six miles in half an hour, right? Definitely. There isn't another _option_.

The one good thing about New York City is that it's all about straight lines. And Dean can get to Sam in two turns. So he does.

Almost getting run over in the process, Dean makes it to the sleazy-looking motel in a record thirty-four minutes. Sam's in room seventy three. Seventy three, seventy three. It's the most important number in the world.

Not bothering to talk to the overweight hotel manager, Dean sprints up the flight of stairs to get to the second level.

Room seventy. Seventy one, seventy two...there. Seventy three.

Breathing hard, he kicks down the door. It collapses, its weak frame crumbling slightly.

Sam is sitting on a bed that's splattered in what Dean knows is blood, but he appears unharmed.

Without a warning, Sam pulls a gun out of the bed sheets. And not just any gun. _The_ gun. The Colt. Dean doesn't stop to think about How Sam procured it. He just surveys the scene in shock.

His brother is detached, just staring at the gun, and for a horrible second Dean wonders if Sam has already said yes.

These thoughts are dispelled when Sam speaks up, monotonously and quietly. "I think you should go, Dean," he says.

"Like hell," Dean growls, his anger more out of concern and fright than actual rage. Because there is Sammy, contemplating holding a gun to his head. And Dean isn't leaving.

Sam cocks the gun and shoves it up, into the crook of his jaw. "Dean. There's nothing you can do."

"Don't you dare-"

"What?" Sam snaps, and Dean sees the redness in his eyes, the raw emotion. Sam's afraid, too. "Don't I dare what? Prevent the devil from getting his vessel? Tell me, Dean, if Lucifer's meatsuit was any other person- _any_ other- would you hesitate to kill them to prevent their saying yes?"

Dean swallows and holds up his hands. "But I know you," he says, trying to keep his voice even. "You wouldn't..."

But even as he says it, he knows that Sam's logic makes sense. And he hates himself. Detests himself. But Sam started the apocalypse. And in the future- one version, at least, Sam says yes.

Which doesn't change a damn thing. "You're not any other person, Sammy," he protests. "You're not. So it doesn't matter."

Sam closes his eyes, and in that moment Dean moves, yanking the gun away from his little brother's head.

Sam fires the gun anyway, instinctively, and all of a sudden there's a dull /thud/ like someone has punched Dean in the gut, and Sam is cursing, screaming...something? Something about Sam being the cause of every bad thing that ever happened to Dean, or...did he ever notice before how Sam cries more out of one eye than the other?

No, probably because Sam doesn't cry a lot. But there are definitely more tears coming out of his left eye. Huh. Weird.

Sam's hand is pressed to Dean's abdomen, trying to staunch the blood. But he can't do anything. It just keeps pouring out, a red cascade that stains Dean's shirts and runs over Sammy's hands and spills out to join the other blood already on the floor.

Suddenly, Cas is there, too, and Sam is yelling at the angel that he shot Dean, shot him _again_, and...

And Cas disappears and then there's Bobby too and really, it's the only people that Dean ever wanted to be at his funeral (because he's dying, he knows that).

But mostly there's Sam. Sam crying, Sam holding Dean and pressing against the wound even though he /knows/, he knows that it's too close to the heart, and Dean is still suffering blood loss from his previous wound, and...

Dean's finding it hard to maintain one track of mind. He disjointedly sees them all- Sam is holding him, Cas is looking stricken (and Dean wants to tell him that it's not his fault, that even if he had his powers he couldn't do anything because it's the frigging _Colt_, but he can't, blood just bubbles lightly on his lips), and Bobby is...crying? Yeah, Bobby's crying, which Dean's never seen before (well, maybe when Sam died? He himself was too much of a wreck to notice).

"C'mon, Dean, _please_," Sam begs, even though he knows there isn't anything he can do.

The world is darkening, and Dean can barely make out their faces, now. But he can feel Sam, supporting him up, and a hand on his shoulder that he thinks is Cas, and Bobby's presence is just next to him.

It's the way it should be, he thinks. Sam, supporting him always, Cas, the angel on his shoulder, and Bobby, the father that was better than John ever was.

Last words are overrated. They make you go quicker, and whatever spur-of-the moment thought is too muddled by pain to be coherent. The movies and TV shows all lie when the hero has epic, resounding last words that mean something special.

In reality, it's quiet, mind fuzzed over with pain and that anxiety of not knowing, thoughts not quite coherent enough to form sentences.

Dean tries anyway, because real life can go to hell. He fights angels and demons and he's already died several times and real life doesn't really apply anymore.

Dean knows there's no coming back. The Colt doesn't kill you- it _obliterates_ you. He's not sure if he'll go to Heaven or Hell, if his soul will even survive intact enough to go. What he is sure of is that this is the last time he'll see the people closest to him.

So he tries to keep his eyes open, and tries to say their names. _Bobby, Cas, Sam_...

And then there's nothing. Absolutely nothing.

* * *

A/N 2:_ I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry (and for those who expected/wanted Sam to be the one dying I'm sorry as well) _

_last chapter up ahead! Including: guilt-ridden sammy and lots of angst and hopefully a conclusion that will satisfy you all. _

_Hey! If you liked this, maybe you could give it a review? We're only 13 away from 300 and that'd be a pretty awesome mile-marker to hit...anyway, thanks for reading. Have a great day! Happy Friday :)_

_-Jaq_


	28. Chapter 28

_A/N: Can you believe it? This is the last chapter. You all are...amazing. Really, really, awesome. I love you all. Thanks so much for supporting me and giving those awesome reviews- I don't think I got a single flame, so that's awesome. You all ROCK. That being said, thanks to Naivaraeladrin, Kas3y, VattaKeto, Sharllissa, Sara B, Sammysmissinghoe, Leandra Falconwing, Jenna, ncsupnatfan, and NikkieSheepie for your awesome reviews. You all are amazing and I really can't thank you enough. *wipes away tear* _

_Well, here's your thrilling conclusion...I hope it satisfies! Enjoy, and kudos for sticking with me this far :)_

_-Jaq_

* * *

_Sam swallows hard, looking at the gun. Slowly- almost in a dream- he walks towards it until he's standing just before the blood-splattered bed. He sinks down onto it, uncaring that his jeans are now stained with even more blood. It won't matter in a few seconds, anyway._

_Sam's glance strays to the note he left Dean, and his jaw tightens. Just a few more seconds. Then it'll all be over._

_The gun is heavy, and old, and it's shiny in a cold, metallic way. The long barrel glints red in the light, and the blood on the sheets is reflected on the cold metal surface. Sam lays it next to himself and takes a deep breath, wanting to take his time. These are his last moments, after all._

_Suddenly, the door flies off its hinges and an extremely out-of-breath Dean Winchester is standing in the doorway, looking panic-stricken. Sam looks down and pulls the gun back out of the sheets, staring at it. Dean's just a passing thought, not a concern._

_"I think you should go, Dean," Sam says quietly, his voice toneless and dead._

_"Like hell," his brother growls, ignoring Sam's warning._

_Fed up, Sam cocks the gun and shoves the barrel into the crook of his jaw, his eyes flashing. "Dean," he says emphatically. "There's nothing you can do." Sam closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It's a little harder to...do it, now that Dean is here. Damn his brother._

_"Don't you dare," Dean orders, his voice sounding remarkably similar to their father's._

_Sam's eyes fly open and he snorts slightly, surveying the expression of sheer panic on his brother's face. Honestly, he thinks Dean should be more grateful. He snaps back at Dean, reminding him that if Lucifer's vessel had been any other person, Dean would be first in line to off them._

_Dean, of course, being the stubborn jerkwad that he is, sputters some pathetic argument and tries to convince Sam to stop anyway. Like that's gonna change anything._

_Ignoring his brother's pleas, Sam closes his eyes, relaxing one last time. He grimaces, fingers clenching._

_Then, his arm is yanked away, while he's still in the act of firing. Sam's eyes fly open to a grunt and the sound of a body collapsing. Sam shouts, realizing with horror what's just happened, and a babbling cry starts pouring out of him._

_"It's all my fault, all my falut, oh _Dean_, please, please, never should have been born, I'm a failure, I'm a _goddamn failure,_ please, Dean..."_

_With trembling hands, Sam tries to staunch the blood all the while supporting Dean's head. He gets down from the bed and onto the floor, tears blurring his vision and falling like a damn waterfall._

_"Cas, _please_," prays, half-sobbing. "Dean's dying, it's my fault..." Sam shudder-sobs, not even caring. He rattles off the address and with a slight rustle Cas is there._

_At the sight of Dean, Cas' brows crease and he gives a stricken look towards Sam. "How-"_

_"I shot him. Get Bobby," Sam says, sniffing and trying again uselessly to staunch Dean's blood. It was just too much blood. Too much._

_An instant later, Cas returns with Bobby, who kneels down, tears of his own making their way down the grizzled face._

_Cas puts his hand on Dean's shoulder and screws his face up, concentrating. When he opens his eyes, they're hopeless. "I can't, Sam," Cas mutters brokenly. "I'm- useless, I can't heal him."_

_Sam just nods, rocking slightly._

_Dean's trying to speak. Sam presses his chest wound down and lowers his ear. He thinks he hears a garbled word or two, but he distinctly hears 'Sammy.' Then, what little Dean was holding up by himself goes slack and his brother's heart gets slower and slower._

_Sam gulps as Dean's eyes flutter closed, and the blood stops pumping through his chest wound. With loud, wet sobs that wrack his whole body, he hugs the corpse._

_Corpse._

_It's such a...dead word._

_Dean's dead. _

_Dean's _dead_. No more sarcastic one-liners, no more pounding out a drum solo on the Impala's steering wheel, no more always being there for Sam, always giving him a second chance..._

_No more Batman._

_-:-_

_Epilogue_

_There's no grave, not this time._

_Sam watches the pyre burn with a feeling that's as near as he can get to being dead himself. Earlier, he tried to kill himself with the gun, but Cas had taken it. Cas had destroyed it, unwilling to let Sam kill himself. Unwilling to make Dean's last act be in vain._

_It should be Sam up on those logs, not his brother._

_Dean was always the good son, the better hunter, the better _brother_..._

_Sam was the one that screwed things up, cursed from six months old, destined for darkness._

_The flames slowly burn out, but Sam keeps standing, the warm July air seeming cold._

_No more Dean always taking the bed closest to the door. No more bad fast food._

_Dean is gone, and he isn't coming back. Not this time. Castiel confirmed it- once killed with the Colt, you can't be brought back._

_Sam's long past the point of crying now. He just stands, facing into the wind, watching as bits of ash fly away._

_There's a glittering, metallic flash among the ashes, and Sam goes to pick it up. It's the amulet Sam gave to Dean for Christmas all those years ago. Dean wore it- always. Even when Sam chose Ruby first, when Sam let open Lucifer's Cage, when Sam screwed up..._

_No matter what, Dean always put Sam first._

_And now Dean's dead._

_As night falls, Sam clenches the amulet and curls in upon himself._

_It's up to him, now._

_To continue alone._

_Sam walks back towards Dean's car, the one that Cas went back and retrieved. It was such a stupid car. Frigging car._

_Dean loved the car._

_Past tense._

_It's all been present tense, but now...Sam bows his head._

_Dean's past tense._

_Dean _was_._

_And Sam's the one that has to keep fighting now._

* * *

A/N 2: I'_m gonna cry, remember when this was the story that never ended? First it was a oneshot, and then you fabulous people convinced me to make it a two-shot, and then...well, you get the point. And I'm a little overdramatic. Still, thanks so much. Onto the shameless self promotion...I love writing. I do. But in fanfiction, I don't get paid (which is a real shame seeing as I'm currently broke). So, reviews are like payin me. Except its free and only takes like third seconds. Soooo...if you've enjoyed this, it's awesome for me as an author to hear from you. Yeah, that means you, you sneaky lil person back there. Anyways, enough with that. Seeing as this is the end, I'm putting forth all I have because, let's be honest, I love reviews..._

_also! I actually love hearing from you, so feel more than free to PM me about a story or prompt or how the weather is where you live. Because that's fun for me to get. Thank you all so much for hanging with me through till the very end. Have an awesome day! I love you so much you all rock I love my readers especially those who've stuck with me and and chat with me (you know who you are, specially nigel and converse :))) )_

_Crap, I ramble too much. See ya in a later story. Has a la vista. Au revoir. _

_-Jaq_


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